Beautiful is vanilla.
Everybody calls everything "beautiful."
Beautiful eyes. Beautiful city. Beautiful flowers.
My beautiful dog Billy Bob (and yes, that's really his name).
Beautiful wedding. Beautiful ring, dress, face, shoes.
But you're about as ordinary as a pair of Jimmy Chu's at Payless.
And Jimmy Chu's aren't one-size-fits-all.
You can be bold or subtle.
Competitive or light-hearted.
Artsy or sporty. Independend or a homebody.
Clever or witty.
A T-shirt & Jeans kinda guy on Friday, a Polo & Slacks kinda guy on Monday.
Welcome to Lisa Wareham Photography, where no size fits all.
Maybe you've been playing softball since age 6.
Maybe you've spent the last 17 years of your life going to your Grandma's house after school on Wednesdays - because she insists.
Maybe your closet is full of strappy dresses and higher-than-high-heels, yet you somehow wind up in your skinny jeans, black tank and flip flops 90% of the time.
Maybe your purse is full of Milk Duds and 10 pairs of Aviators.
But no matter what it is?
It's so you.
My Love Affair with Butte & Old Things
"I love things that are old and glittery, that come with layers of glamor and past lives."
The Things I'm Made of
Mystery, layers of stories and the sense of the people that came before us – this is what I live for. The old pillars and architecture in this old mining town of Butte tell the stories of mystery, big money and miners. The cracked and peeling paint are like the wrinkles of an old woman – the beautiful battle wounds of a well-lived life that tell of past memories.
When I walk the streets of Uptown I often imagine the trolleys and horse-drawn carriages that pulled people along in this booming mining camp. I often wonder, what did they look like? Who were they?
Layers of stories – this is how I see and how I photograph. The story of the 100-year old business-owner of Matt’s place – her face has aged but the background of the business is still the same. As you visit the Original during the Montana Folk Festival, you can almost imagine the miners holding their lunch pails filled with pasties and gravy. During a walking tour, you can smell the history in the underground speakeasy that was packed during prohibition.
We are made from the people and events that came before us. For me, my great-grandmother was born in Elkhorn, Montana, which is now a ghost town about 45 miles from Butte. Since I was a child, I have been fascinated with the layers of intricately-designed wallpaper and leftover box springs in these homes that are now vanishing into piles of wood. It was always an adventure to explore the buildings – the worn, broken floorboards, the roofs falling in, and the stairs falling sideways. My history lies in Elkhorn – but my future history resides in Butte.
I believe in Butte, and I believe our youth, community, Montana and the rest of the world should see us as we are – a town that helped support the war efforts via copper and other metals, a place where you are not afraid to let strangers help you change a flat tire, a place where you can see, smell, and even taste the mysterious tales that seem too overly fantastic to be true.