I met Karen Comba over a decade ago, via an amazing group of women. While casually talking about our respective professions, she said she would be writing a book one day and it would be her life story. This intrigued me and I wondered what an amazing life she must have had to want to write a book about it.
In getting to know her through the years, we formed a deep friendship, a bond, and while I was touring all over the world and spent very little time at my Colorado home, we always kept in touch and deepened our friendship. On one particular occasion, I visited her at home and we sat down, as friends do, at the kitchen table, the heart of a home. This is where, with powerful emotion, she confided what her book was about. It floored me. This amazing, beautiful, strong, powerful woman had been through such a trying time in her life, and I strongly encouraged her sharing it with the world. We hugged, we cried, we built our strength. Her story needed to be told, so it could help others.
Fast forward some 10 years later, she calls me "I've done it, it's getting published, I've done it!" - OH HELL YEAH! My heart swelled with happiness for her, and for her beloved husband who always loves and supports her with a love that is rooted in trust and devotion. I let out a squeal. Let me repeat this, me, a squeal (I'm not the squealing type).
When she said she wanted me to take the author's portrait for her book, I immediately said yes. Anything she needs.
I arrived at her home with very little equipment, because she is so damn beautiful, I didn't need much. When we gave it a shot, I noticed she wasn't "there" and her smile was the one you give to the press. I wanted her essence, I wanted her to come through. Maybe if I didn't know her so well, I would have been content with that smile, that pose, that photo. But I knew I could do better.
We had a brief moment, peaceful, calm, I asked her to breathe slowly, and to think about all the people she would be helping with her story. I asked her to come back to me, to look at me, not at the lens. And the Love that poured out of my friend was the Love I put into my photography. Pure, easy. I had my shot.
After, we sat down for a chat - in her kitchen - and it was her turn to encourage me, to give me some of her strength, to make me believe in the value of my work. I needed it, and I am so very grateful for the wisdom and care she put into me at a time I was not my best. I'm still not where I want to be health wise, but I keep hearing her encouraging words in my head, every day. My work is meaningful. So grateful.
I am so incredibly touched by her acknowledgment of my work and me as a person in her book, it's exactly what makes me feel on purpose. Sometimes we are not just "photographers" - I want people to see themselves as I see them, as they are. Amazing. Powerful. Peaceful.
Please join me in congratulating my dear friend in a major accomplishment. Her book, The Snipers We Couldn't See is available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and here are some wonderful words about it
"Karen Comba's heartfelt new book gives voice to the quiet kid in school who couldn't cry out for help. THE SNIPERS WE COULDN'T SEE will strike a chord with anyone whose childhood was defined and dictated by a parent or loved one with mental illness―and who becomes painfully aware of the damage that is carried well into adulthood. I salute Karen Comba for having taken us with her on this harrowing but ultimately victorious journey." --Wally Lamb, New York Times bestselling author of She's Come Undone and I Know This Much Is True (both selections of Oprah's Book Club)
"Regardless of the odds stacked against her and the challenges she faced, Karen Comba did not let her trauma define her. THE SNIPERS WE COULDN'T SEE is the story of how a child can prevail over circumstance." --Jim Fay, cofounder of Love and Logic Institute
I just received my copy and I haven't been able to put it down. It's absolutely powerful. Just like my Friend.
