2021

The exhaustion of completing consecutive photo projects for my degree, projects that were elaborate and required a lot of theory and intention, drained most of my creative enthusiasm. I was financially strung along by several commissions in 2021 that were practical in providing me with content (and I use the word "content" in its most base and derogatory form) but they did little to engage me. I did reclaim some small joy in several equipment purchases, particularly with my Epson Scanner and the archive work I was able to complete using it. However, I was faced with the realization that stripped of the constant outdoor excursions provided by my parents and classroom prompts meant to propel me forward, i.e, living on my own and separated from school, I had to exert more of an effort to engineer photo opportunities for myself.

I spent the past week or so editing a small collection of beach photos that I had planned to post at some point in the future. On the beach, I sat around with little inspiration and saw the same shots as I always did. And the very limited enthusiasm I held on that day was pretty much extinguished when I began editing. I had no sense of direction and no vision to the point that I just set the project aside and never bothered to pick it up again.

To be honest, I feel fatigued even just discussing this perceived impotence here. Perhaps, it is because this issue makes me acutely aware of my introversion. I spend most of my free time engrossed in my digital work: graphic design, music-making, writing as I'm doing now. I find these avenues more suited to my reserved temperament. I am also fatigued because frankly this discussion is a dead horse that I've cycled and recycled eternally in my mind. If I evaluate myself honestly and with compassion, I've become less withdrawn as I've gotten older and I've had plenty of chances to photograph. I have a million minor excuses that inhibit me from creating new work apart from not getting out enough: I don't have a desire to lug my camera equipment around, I've become too engrossed in theory to take candid shots, the smartphone is more readily available, the myth of photography doesn't move me like it did when I was a child, etc.

Perhaps, 2022 will be a better year. I will be visiting Portland as always and April has graciously invited me to Italy, which will be my first departure from the country. I have several more unorthodox project ideas involving my smartphone and a floppy disk camera. But I am preparing myself for a reality in which my art shifts away from photography and into more unexplored territories. The writings of James Agee in Let Us Now Praise Famous Men have inspired me to write again and to disassociate my craft from the baggage of the term "art". I too hope to reclaim my joy and once again make good photos before I make good art.

Children of the Lion

December 29, 2021

I had the sudden impulse to photograph Juneau as he lounged on Kara's hanging crochet basket. Juneau is perhaps the most conventionally photogenic cat I've ever encountered. Apart from that though, I haven't shared enough time with him to confidently speak on his personality, although I get the impression from Ted that he's a bit of a rascal and that he maintains some level of awareness about his good looks.

Everyone is first naturally drawn to his marble blue eyes and then to his smokey fur which contrasts beautifully with the former. The surface of his face is streaked with dark lines, and his overall facial structure denotes a lineage of feline ancestors from the early ages of the earth. Inevitably, there's a bit of insecurity on Ted and Kara's part that his looks overshadow his siblings', particularly Nellie who is the more traditional cat in appearance. Of course, that insecurity almost inverts the dynamic, and one might become more invested in interacting with Nellie, thinking her to be neglected in the shadow of her brother. Unfortunately, this can feel like an obligation more than a genuine interest, especially after swooning over Juneau. Winston is notably left out entirely from this back-and-forth because of his seniority and his very distinctive attitude resulting from a long life, something that Juneau and Nellie are still growing into. In addition, Winston has already received years of exclusive attention even when he lived with Ellie, being much more well-mannered than his sister.

Of course, Nellie herself is no less sophisticated or beautiful. Her fur is warm and rustic like fine wood and her eyes bear hints of green. She is very much of the earth and in a way more comforting than Juneau whom I would describe as urban and chique. As is with Juneau though, my time with Nellie has been limited so I can't speak of her on anything more than a surface level observation.

You will notice that Juneau represents the majority of the album and Nellie only a small portion. In that particular moment, I was enamored with Juneau as he was lit against the window, but he was very aloof as all cats are. This aloofness works to perpetuate him as a vogue cat. I spent several minutes in vain trying to position his basket so the light would properly highlight his face, only slightly though so as not to disturb his nap. Nellie on the other hand, sat patiently in her cat bowl, and curiously watched me as I photographed her. She occupied a darker corner of the house, which dissuaded me from incessantly shooting her. They were both very cooperative cats. They were both also napping in the moody winter afternoon, and therefore less inclined to decline or even care.

Nutrinos

December 27, 2021

As has become tradition with my visits to Beaverton, I took a stroll around the local lake with my family. At this point, the fresh snow had puddled into a wet mush and the trees were stripped of their white highlights. It was an overall very gloomy, cold, wet tundra, but something I had come to expect visiting the northwest during this time of the year.

The wildlife had retreated either to warmer regions or cozier holes. I did spot some Nutria rats of which I continuously failed to pronounce and had to be corrected several times by my nephews. One in particular was very unmoved by my presence and graciously allowed me to photograph it. There were also a few Nutria families who retreated back into their hidden hollows as we crossed paths. Unfortunately, the sun had receded so low and the light so dim in the overcast that it was difficult to make them out even in the final images.

Dressed as I was, no amount of casual winter wear could protect me from the sharp cold that would bite my nose and the tips of my unprotected fingers. The nephews seemed sturdy and relatively unphased by the winter air, and I did my best to mirror their steadfastness in this weather that was internally destroying my frail west coast persons.