Anastasia Campos@anastasiacampos

It seems only yesterday I used to believe
there was nothing under my skin but light.
If you cut me I could shine.
-Billy Collins

235 posts 412 followers 0 following

I just figured out how to post an entire blog on stories, so if you don’t like clicking links, you’ve got options. Poll: should I start the blog of my dreams? I ask this question about once a year. I even have a name! It would be a big ol’ Container Store (never Target or Walmart) bin of my mind: creativity, identity, motherhood, historic Christianity, calling, suffering, memory-keeping, painfully slow but steady redemption. With a podcast to boot! And features. Interviews. The documentary on motherhood that exists in my brain. The spirit is willing, but the flesh has dishes to do. What say you, readership? A blog for the intellectual homemaker. I mean, a friend did say once she thought I could be the Lena Dunham of the church. #goals? #polaroid


As a mother I'm often told, "You've got your hands full!" At the grocery store, at the park. If we dare to venture to a small, quiet place that is not the library (note to self: never do this). And it's true. Full hands are occupied; I can't carry other things. Full hands are tired from a load. Awkward in life when the hands are needed - using a foot or an elbow instead. Vision obstructed by the fullness. Peering over what I carry while walking. You've got your hands full! A platitude that can even come off as an insult at times, but at it's best captures a beautiful reality. The opposite of loneliness. Like hands full of money, hands full of love letters. Hands full of film! I'm busy, I'm tired, I can't focus well; because I carry a burden of tremendous value. (Full post in profile) #film


This man. Our story. One day — one day it will see the light of day. For now we are living it, this slow and steady resurrection. I long to speak about us, him, it, motherhood, worldview, identity with more direct clarity. A blog idea I’ve been turning over in my mind for a few years. Sometimes I think I photograph because I am lazy. A slothful writer getting the end without the means. Painting pictures with a click instead of the toil of the word. But the words are still there; they hang back like Buddha’s behind my eyes. Peaceful, knowing. Waiting their turn. I’d love to harness these thoughts, release them into the world as a cohesive expression. But all I can do is sweep, mop and vacuum the floors and then be tired for the rest of the day. The topics accumulate. Topics to write about. But where is the mind to achieve it? I think I’m still waiting for it to be less work before moving forward. Or maybe I’ll gather ideas until I’m 50 and when these babes of mine have flown, I’ll sit down for a month and there it will all be. A book. Or five. For now — INCHING forward. First using this space as a microblog, trying now to move to blogging more. You know, a complete thought? What’s that? Creative frustration, you’re a lifelong but stupid friend. If I could slough you off like a snake skin I could get more done. But here we are. Tapping in the dark instead. One foot in and one foot out. Devoted but not committed. Messing around with taking my art seriously. Thoughts, thoughts, thoughts on this Tuesday evening. Take one, they’re free. #film

Flagstaff, Arizona

Looking ahead #film


When husband comes through with a portrait ♥️ The picture of this season; arms full of plump, precious baby life. Constantly exploring while still deeply attached. With Vivian I was still Woman although I had a baby. Come Eleanor I am Mother — an official name change. Not because I am only this title but because I am mainly this. To be anything more must be fought for and scheduled and prioritized and sought. And I do. But my thoughts and body and dollars and worries and prayers and lessons are all found in this work of motherhood. To show you warmth every single day, to give you wisdom embodied through discipline and teaching and meal after after meal after meal after meal. Our home is abuzz with talk of a third child. We shudder and fear. We swell with hope and desire. I am cherishing these last months with my quiet, powerful, curious Eleanor. She came from my body — a miracle I’ll never believe although I’ve done it twice. #film

Flagstaff, Arizona

Foraging up north in fields of light. We stayed at an Airbnb on 5 acres that made me summarily give up hope of a happy life in the city 😂 Our real estate story is one of trial and loss so far. The market here is dismal in our price range. So we have mastered the day trip and the overnight stay. Packing up the girls with their arsenal of food and equipment and my bags stuffed with cameras and film. To the pines, to Oak Creek, to mountains covered with birch blooming fire. #film

Flagstaff, Arizona

Vivian’s bouquet. I tried to write a post about marriage for Valentine’s Day but it refuses to come out as art. Instead it wants to be the raw heart itself: beating, fleshy, ugly but wondrous. I would gladly give that to you — I would — but it’s beats need time to form a song from the pounding and stopping and dropping and racing. This quadruple-chambered thing; mutant but functional, two grafted together to supply nutrients to both of our frames. #film


Photographers deal in things which are continually vanishing and when they have vanished there is no contrivance on earth which can make them come back again. —Henri Cartier-Bresson #film


Color and light
There's only color and light
Yellow and white
Just blue and yellow and white


Kaleidoscopic you #film


Film journeyers: I’ve started a new blog series called Experiments in Film, talking about my creative process with each roll. On the blog tonight: shooting #portra400 at golden hour using aperature priority because I can’t reconcile myself to handheld metering without a fight. Join me there? Link in profile. #film


Weekend in the pines touching snow for the first time 🌾 #polaroid

Flagstaff, Arizona