Page 2 of The Beach Shack Artists 3
“That’s not a word.”
“It is now, yeah.” She stood, brushing sand off her jeans. “Can we try the cove? The light’s about to shift.”
They walked along the beach, Tyler carrying the equipment bag while Stella scouted for shots. This had become their routine—early morning sessions before the beach filled with tourists, before the day’s responsibilities kicked in. It was the only time Stella seemed truly relaxed.
“You know,” he said as they rounded the point, “what you’re doing—seeing the light, finding the composition—that’s the same thing Anna and Bea do. Just with a camera instead of paint.”
“It’s not the same,” Stella insisted. “I’m capturing what’s actually there. They make stuff up.”
“Photography is interpretation too. You’re choosing what to include, what to leave out. That’s creative.”
“It’s selective,” she said. “There’s a difference.”
The cove was perfect—empty except for a few early surfers, the morning light making the water look alive. Stella immediately dropped to one knee, camera up.
“See that?” she murmured, more to herself than him. “The way the surfer’s silhouette breaks the light pattern?”
“I see it,” Tyler said softly, watching her work. She was so absorbed she didn’t notice him raise his own camera, capturing her in profile—the concentration on her face, the way she unconsciously leaned into the shot.
“Got it,” she said with satisfaction. Then, noticing his camera pointed at her, “Were you photographing me photographing?”
“Documentary work,” he said innocently.
“That’s weird, Dad.”
“That’s parenting, apparently. Everything’s weird.”
She almost smiled—he counted that as a victory.
They worked in silence for another hour, Tyler occasionally offering technical advice but mostly just watching her discover things on her own. She had good instincts, better than she knew.
“We should head back,” he said eventually. “Breakfast shift starts soon.”
“Five more minutes? The light’s doing something interesting with that kelp.”
He couldn’t help but grin. “Light’s doing something interesting” was exactly how he’d describe it too.
“Five minutes,” he agreed.
“Hey, Dad?” she said suddenly, not looking up from her viewfinder. “Do you think Margo would let me photograph in the Shack sometime? Early morning, before opening? The light through those windows...”
“I’m sure she would,” Tyler said, trying not to sound too pleased. “That’s a great idea.”
“It’s just documentary work,” she said quickly. “Capturing the feeling of the space before…before things change.”
“Of course,” he said. “Very documentational.”
She did smile then, just a little. “Think Aunt Meg’s ready for this? Anna and Bea moving in for six weeks?”
“Meg’s tougher than she looks. And she’s got good organizational skills.” Tyler paused for a moment. “Though Anna has a way of making organizational skills... irrelevant.”
“Should be interesting.”
“That’s one word for it.”
As they packed up the equipment, Tyler caught himself hoping this morning routine wouldn’t disappear once the house filled with artistic chaos. These quiet moments with Stella had become precious to him.
“Race you to the car,” Stella said suddenly, taking off across the sand.
