I’ll always cherish photos like these,
the ones that show where we were
when we were chasing dreams.
These photos bring me back to a time I won’t ever get back.
I wrote this on my Tumblr just now as I looked back on photos Mel and I created in my mom’s basement. I can almost feel the emotions of being in that space, the palpable taste of colors. Photos have a way of bringing me back in ways that are so close to the real thing yet so distant.
What does it mean to start over again?
As much as we like thinking we have that control, I am too aware in that sense.
I understand that we can never start over, that instead we must change direction.
What happens when we hit our wall, that wall that makes us decide whether we must go right or left because continuing forward is no longer an option?
That’s where the growth happens.
We take what we’ve learned, the moments and elements that got us to that wall in the first place and we build off the experiences that have come to define us.
We take the lessons and the mistakes and we gather what we love about ourselves, our lives and our art and we begin again.
Re-defining my place in this world has been one of the most difficult things for me as a photographer and I’m still not even close.
I keep making declarations about the next chapter of my life as a person and as an artist and until I start seeing the version I can see so vividly in my head, I must keep putting the work in to make the turn.