About

I am Tasha.

Maybe you know me as a singer-songwriter in Portand, Oregon. A performer and producer. Multiple albums.

Maybe you know me as a 35mm photographer, hiding in the bushes or staring straight at your eyeballs.

Was I “Coach Killer” to you? Your elementary school PE Teacher or college rowing coach

or your Lincoln High School or Junior Olympic Multnomah Athletic Club volleyball coach?

yeah…I was a little rough. (Probably why I got fired from that one coaching job.)

Maybe I was your piano teacher for 10 years…

Or your car valet at the Marriott Hotel in Portland in the ‘90s. You couldn’t miss me. I was their first-ever female valet.

Maybe I sold Elizabeth Ashley window shutters to you at Costco!

Did we work together for Nike’s guerrilla marketing team at the 1996 Olympic Games in Atlanta?

Let’s see. How may our paths have crossed in the past?

Was I your nanny? In the rolling hills of St. Helena, California? Or in the West Hills of Portland?

Your wedding singer, maybe? Or did I sing for your child’s funeral? Or maybe it was your mother or father’s funeral. Your sister’s?

I know we know each other. Did I cut your hair for $30 every month? Was I your math tutor?

Did you take voice lessons from me?

Maybe I raised you. Did you come out of my vagina?

Did I sell you that skirt in Nordstrom’s Brass Plum department in the ‘90s? It had to have been that skirt.

I was the employee of the month in Jean Machine (Lloyd Center, July 1990). Maybe I sold you jeans?

Just wracking my brain, cuz I know we’ve met before.

I’ve worn a few hats (the list goes on and on)…and I can assure you…

You don’t know me.

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When I was a little girl (and my boobs were mosquito bites), I wanted to be an investigator. I tip-toed through the great redwood forests of my Mendocino County backyard, looking for snakes and berries and humming little songs to myself. I heard tiny sounds and stopped. The listening soothed me. The watching made me motionless. The waiting for it was riveting. I am more curious today than I was yesterday, but I don’t do snakes anymore. Still humming little songs to myself. Photography allows me to study people for long periods of time without it being creepy. My test is the portrait. Does it reveal you? That real you?

When was the last time you looked at yourself clearly?

Moreover, when was the last time you listened?

Watching you with a loaded camera is my coffee. Taking the shot is my cocaine. Never did the real kind. Sometimes I can’t breathe in that space between past, present and future. If I do, it’ll mess things up. I’m overwhelmed with opportunity and purpose. I get paid to see you. I have power when you walk into my door to get your portrait made. I do not abuse that power. I use it to help you gain clarity in your own life. You must be able to see yourself in order to live your best life. AND in order to make this world a better place. So I lead with love. I watch you follow. I hold you in the palm of my hand (like I did those snakes)…and I get paid to take care of you.

I watch facial muscles shift and settle. How about that one between your eyebrows? I see the comfortable moments. Your small shavings of freedom. Aha! I click the shutter, but no rapid fire…because film is expensive. I see the cold segments of time…when you’re pretending. (I don’t waste our money on that stuff.) I hear you self deprecate and I hear you try not to. I listen to you laugh and I see you cry if I’m lucky. We’re so connected. I watch the love in your eyes…and the hope that all is as it should be. I wonder what your eyes have seen. I wonder what you are battling as we speak. If I look into your eyes long enough, maybe I will find out. As a portrait photographer, I have a psychologically intimate space in my subject’s life. 

Maybe I am an investigator after all.

I put the lens down and make us a drink. We talk about mental health or our childhoods. Something kind of deep. Or we don’t talk much at all. I’m acutely aware of what our connection needs. Most people feel normalized when we’re together. (Or maybe entertained.) Your reactions and energy to what I say or don’t say…and do or don’t do are ALL equally priceless. The split seconds that emote from your insides…And land in your eyes. Is why I am there. Nothing is forced. Not the conversation. Not the reactions. Not the portraits. I hold a taped-up Nikon F100 loaded with a single roll of 35mm Ilford Delta or Portra 400. It’s my tool for seeking truth.

I don’t need words to hear your truth. I hear it when you keep your eyes open. We are looking at ourselves when we take the time to really see each other. The minute people realize that is the minute we’ll get on with it…making this world great for the first time.

There is no post production. No computer work. What I saw during that entire split second is what you get on film. If you are hell bent on hating your wrinkles or fat, don’t hire me. But there is only one you…and I’m the one to show you that you’re beautiful. I show you you’re strong even when you insist otherwise. And you are capable. I’m that woman who will pull it out and show you point blank. And I’ll do it with daylight.

To enlarge a photograph on fiber paper, we use water, a stop bath, fixer, an easel, pins, a timer, a glossy finish and a very VERY dark room.

To write a song is not a thing. The best ones write themselves. A song knows what it wants. It doesn’t take long to listen. You just do it. I’m the vehicle for the message. I am a heavy and detailed black iron train..forging on through the tunnels and valleys. Sometimes a white steel Cadillac, willy nilly with the top down. You know when you are working with great musicians, because they say, “it seems like it wants to…” when referring to changes in a song’s melody or musical arrangement. The song…is it’s own being. Mrs. Miller’s Christmas, for instance, isn’t MY song. It’s yours as much as it’s mine. It came to me first. That’s all. I know where it came from. It came from somewhere inside of me. A dark, very sad and tragic place, to be honest. The song, originally entitled Mights and Maybes, knew I could give it life. During the half hour writing process, it wanted to be happy and funny. I was in a mood. The Christmas anthem was first born in 2015 (not long after my Dad’s death, my husband’s Stage 4 cancer diagnosis and several untimely deaths in our community)…then revisited in 2018 at my piano with only Scott and the Miller kids in earshot…then recorded at our very own home (Valentina) just after Thanksgiving 2021…and finally, published in December 2021 with a team of insanely talented musicians in Portland, Oregon.

Thank you for being here with me. Each one of us has the option not to be. It’s fascinating to dissect life into split seconds and whole emotions.  You don’t pay me to take your picture or sing you a song. You give my life meaning. You stay with me forever. And I with you.

We make the world a better place if I’m doing my job as an artist.

~

The enchanting singer-songwriter-35mm film photographer, Tasha Joy, was brought home in 1974 to Space #17 at the Hidden Hollow Trailer Court located in Kearney, Nebraska. Smack dab in the middle of Buffalo County. Her family was homeless for her first two years of life. They then lived in four states by the time Tasha was 15. Friendships were like petals on a flower. They fell off when the family moved…But Tasha found solace in making bouquets, roller and ice skating, playing classical piano and imagining her life as a singer. Her father was a sea captain and her mother, a creative homemaker and musician. Tasha grew to 5’11”, became an awarded collegiate athlete and coach, then married and gave birth to three children, with whom she stayed at home full time. She has had 34 odd jobs, but motherhood revealed the unrelenting artist. Well into her 40s, Tasha was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. That explained things. Miller’s eye as a self-taught 35mm film photographer has decorated walls across the country. Her voice has been followed in nearly 50 countries. Her lyrics devoured and songs put on repeat.

GOOD GOSSIP COLUMN

Lisa Simone (daughter of a legend, Nina Simone) said…

“Sister Tasha, you are a Light! Beautiful Warrior, Musician, Priestess, Sexy Mama.

You shine so bright even as you face your own darkness.

Sometimes your light is like a night light. Sometimes, a spotlight.

At other times, a BEACON from a lighthouse. It is ALWAYS there.

If I were to have my own label, I would sign you.” (2020)

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The Oregonian

“Radically honest.” (2017)

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Mehdi Farjami, an extremely thoughtful and talented Portland musician/guitarist, said to me over the phone…

“Tasha, there are very few people who dominate a stage.

You are one of those people. It’s called a gift.” (2021)

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Collection of Portland gossip through the years….

“Unbridled, she remains. Effusive and infectious. Off color and off kilter.”
“The definition of bravery.”
“A rare human, capable of harnessing great power, musically and otherwise.”
“Kinetic, personal and riveting”
“Kids are shocked by her willingness to disclose intimate details about her life.”
“There is humor, comfort and irony in the bathrobe, but it is also the transformation of pain into art.”
“Her voice is heavenly.”  
“The ecosystem Tasha creates is amazing.”

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Cassondra Larson (Mom of a high school graduate) said…

“Oh my God. Tasha. You are so good. These are just beautiful. Real treasures.

I am so grateful to you — beyond words grateful. WOW.

I am in awe of these images. Thank you for seeing Tulip so deeply, and so well.

You have such a rare gift. I’m blown away.” (2021)

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Lucy Bishop (Lincoln High graduate) said…

“I was really happy and surprised at how raw and intimate my photos were.

Senior photos are so often staged and look very post-cardy and cheesy,

but the photos Tasha took were not like this at all.

Mine are super special and beautiful.” (2020)

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A journalist for Portland, Oregon’s Willamette Week said…

“Some combination of artist and sorceress.” (2011)

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Jamie Willemse (Mom of a high school graduate) said…

“Tasha Miller has a very sharp eye for capturing the essence of a person

and their unexpected moments. Her photography is full of depth and beauty;

she really has a gift for knowing her craft.

The images she did for us are artful and will be cherished!” (2020)

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Jami Breese, “just a” wonderful woman, said…

“Tasha, you have been on such a fiery and courageous path!

You are ever the artist forging your own way through this world of ours and inspiring others." (2021)