Last weekend, a friend and I taught a photography workshop to a group of middle school students who have begun to use Instagram to share their art and talents. We talked about composition and light, lines and perspective and using social media to share our images. As each of these budding photographers explores different methods to define their art, I reminded them to find their own style. “Eventually,” I told them, “you’ll see a cohesive look to your photos. You’ll know what you’re drawn to, what you love, and your portfolio will represent you as an artist.”

I added a photo to Instagram the next morning and when it fell into place in my feed, I noticed I could easily make out my style. I love natural light, softness, color, elements of childhood and pretty details. It all looked so beautiful in the frame of my phone–a collage that represented cherished stories in my life and captured in a way that embodied my particular style and art. I made a note to order some new prints to display.

I’ve been submerged in blogging, photography and social media long enough to have heard a whole lot about branding. Our feeds, our pages, our logos, our taglines, our photos and our styles are our brands, whether we like it or not. With one click, we get a feeling of who someone is, of what they represent, of what they love, and as artists we’re encouraged to make those things look and feel cohesive. But maintaining a cohesive look can also be a censor for true art and beauty.

What’s my brand? Love and little moments; finding beauty–digging for it, changing the way we see it; adding hints of color to the washed out grays of the world; admitting when it hurts and it’s hard and capturing the beauty of that hurt and hardness; connecting, searching for and recognizing the good. As a photographer and artist, I find it fortunate when I can capture these moments in nice light and at good angles and will naturally always aim to represent them with my art and style. I don’t deny the part of myself that loves that challenge.

But far above art and style is heart and story, and sometimes the deepest most beautiful moments in life don’t add up to fit a cohesive feed. They happen in artificial light, in front of cluttered boxes, with crooked lines, harsh shadows and yellow hues. Their story is their art.

This week, I added some of my most beautiful moments ever to my feed. There’s no soft, natural light, no strategic perspective, but they represent the most important thing about my art and my brand, I hope–love. Love can’t always be packaged with soft light and pretty details, love doesn’t always photograph well or fit with our style, but the story blooming under those fluorescent lights, the emotions surging in that crowded room–it was art, it was beauty, and it looked and felt more cohesive with what I want to capture and share than the perfect afternoon light ever could. It was beautiful.

Our feeds are not our lives, but they do give us the opportunity to share pieces of our lives that might inspire, motivate or make someone happy.

In my feed, on this site, within my brand and on my unending creative expedition, I capture moments. I look for light. I stretch my perspective. I crop, expand, tilt, pull back and zoom in. I celebrate beautiful things. I tell stories. And I make room for love, however it may look.

Please come back Monday to hear more about the love I was witness to this week, and ways that you can share it too.

This post is sponsored by Bombas, making our workouts look good and bringing socks  to those that need it.

I did something pretty big last week–not big because it’s a big deal, but big because I’ve been telling myself I’m going to do it for a long time. I joined a gym. Now, even if I never actually work out there, I can at least drop “my gym” in conversations.

There was a period in my life where I spent a lot of time at the gym, and all I have to show for it are some wedding photos of people that look nothing like us now. I’m not going to lie–we didn’t go to the gym to “be healthier”; we wanted to look buff and tan for our wedding. The gym took care of the buff; the spray tan that bled bronzy stuff all over my wedding dress took care of the tan.

Nineish years later, I joined a gym for the right reasons–childcare and an hour watching HGTV uninterrupted. There’s an elliptical machine and some weights in there somewhere too, I guess, but they’re not important.

Where were we?
Gyms stress me out. Back in my homeschool days, my mom used to take us to the gym at University of Michigan’s Flint campus. There were a lot of young people there. Cool, good-looking young people, and I spent the entire gym hour stressing about who was looking at us because it only takes one time of your  mom sitting on the Nautilus equipment backwards, making her body go all cock-eyed to pull the weights down and a hot guy walking up to tell her she’s using it wrong to scar you for life.

Thankfully, Heidi joined the gym with me this year, so if we’re using the equipment wrong, there’s two going down in the ship.

Here’s my overcompensation tip for my returning-to-the-gym fear: look cute. This isn’t exactly the soundest advice, but it works for me. If I’m going to straddle what I thought was a leg bench only to be told it’s where your head goes, pray tell I’m doing it in some cute little workout outfit.

“Let’s get new workout clothes to help us get excited,” Heidi suggested.

Yes. Let’s do that.

So we owned the gym last week. Walked in that place in head-to-toe perfect workout clothes which, sure, says GYM TOURIST, but at least we showed up. And we worked out. And we’re going to do it again. And we’re going to drop OUR GYM in lots of conversations. Gym, tan and laundry, baby. Scratch that, I’ll never conquer laundry.

Here’s what I promise: no “Hey look, I’m working out” selfies. Okay, that’s a lie. I’m totally posting a gym selfie because if it didn’t happen on Instagram, it didn’t happen. I kid, I kid.

Now let’s move on to the Gym Socks. I gotcha covered here, and you’re going to like it. There are so many great companies giving us opportunities to use our purchasing power to help others—the socks didn’t want to be left out of the game. In fact, socks are the number one clothing request at homeless shelters.

Enter Bombas (as seen on Shark Tank!). Bombas are athletic-leisure socks, re-engineered to look better, feel better and perform better, with a mission to help those in need. For every sock purchased, Bombas donates a pair to someone in need (like Toms or Warby Parker for socks!). Bombas has donated over 300,000 socks to those in need since launching in Oct 2013.

Bombas spent two years researching and developing their socks—bet you never knew how much goes into a comfortable sock, eh? These socks are like Willy Wonka’s secret Gobstopper recipe for comfort. They stay up, don’t slip, are the perfect balance of snug and thickness, have a back tab to prevent blisters (ankle socks), are made of Long Staple Pima Cotton, cool in the summer, warm in the winter—basically so comfy, Bombas has a 100% happiness guarantee. If you don’t think they’re the most comfortable socks you’ve ever worn, they’ll refund your entire purchase. Really.

Order Bombas and get 20% off your entire order of any size with the code KELLEHAMPTON20.

I’m going to ace this new workout thing because: sock game.

Thank you Bombas for sponsoring this post, and thank you readers for checking out the sponsors that help make keeping up this blog a little easier.