Becozi was born on a cold, snowy, blustery Michigan day. A knitter since adolescence, Larissa Koedyker, was intrigued by a video she saw online that featured yarn as thick as her wrist. It looked delightfully chunky and soft, and just by looking at it from the other side of the screen, she was hooked.
I began the year 2018 not knowing what to do. I had just closed my old photography business, having felt burnt out and ready to take a stab at something new.
I had signed up for a few herbalism classes, but beyond that I truly had no idea what this year would hold for me.
“Because in the end, you won’t remember the time you spent working in the office or mowing your lawn. Climb that goddamn mountain.
– Jack Kerouac
There have been many odes composed to praise the beauty and transformation of travel, so I will try not to be too repetitive in my attempt to communicate how much travel has changed my life.
After shooting dozens of boudoir sessions, I can confidently tell you what works very well as an outfit for a boudoir session and what does not. If you Google ‘what to wear for boudoir session’, you will get countless articles with images that include everything from a sexy football uniform outfit to women wearing nothing at all. Of course, what you wear depends on both your comfort level and what makes you feel sexy, not someone else on the internet.
My style of boudoir is classic and elegant which means I discourage women to wear items that will look dated in a year or two. I am one to discourage uniforms, dress up outfits and play boy bunny ears. Why? Because I am a strong believer that a woman doesn’t need to wear a mask or a costume to showcase her playful and sexy side.
…wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.
It was still dark when alarm softly beeped right next to my pillow. We only landed in Paris twenty hours ago, jet-lagged and excited. Despite a three hour nap the day before, six hours of sleep was still not enough to get my body to get used to Parisian time zone.
I groggily climbed out of bed, trying to keep my husband from waking up. Feet cold on the hardwood floors of our French AirBnb, I tiptoed to the bathroom where a fresh set of clothing was prepared for me last night by my more-awake self.
Camera bag by the door and a large plastic bag stuffed with tulle skirts that I brought with me all the way across the Atlantic. Some may call me crazy. I call myself an artist.
Paris is always a good idea.
A few months ago Tyler and I were sitting on our living room couch, discussing our goings of the day, when I suddenly exclaimed: “We haven’t decided where we’re going on our vacation this Fall!”
Only a few minutes later I was perusing the web and multiple travel apps for flight deals – we were curious where flying was affordable as we didn’t have a huge preference as to where to go.
And then I saw it – flights to Paris from Seattle, roundtrip, for under $400 per person. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I turned my phone to Tyler and said, “Do you want to go to Paris?” He said, “We’ll eventually go together, why not now?”
If women governed the entire world, it is my theory that soon we would have world peace and healing of the entire planet.
What would our world look like if we were governed by a matriarchy?
There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others.
My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.
What would the world look like if every woman in it had courage to stand up and speak out? Against any injustice on her or others’ behalf, against prejudice, hate and bias?
Realizing that naming evil out loud can be a daunting task for any human, how about starting with something as simple as claiming our bodies?
Have you heard the call of the wild?
Perhaps you were camping in the North Cascades and a bird called to you before the sun has fully risen over the douglas firs. Or maybe a plant you’ve never noticed before softly whispered into your ear, encouraging you to get to know it better. It’s possible you heard it in the rush of a river coming down from the mountains, as you stood on the uneven rocks on its bank and closed your eyes to the noise, leaning in.
You must have heard the call. Have you answered it?
I have always struggled with identifying with words such as ‘artist’ or ‘creative’. Despite majoring in fine arts in college and spending hours at the painting studio, every time a friend would call me a creative person or an artist I would inwardly, and at times outwardly, cringe.