There are always two people in every picture: the photographer and the viewer.
-Ansel Adams
Photography is unique in its ability to encapsulate a unique moment in time. It has the capacity to express different ideas, feelings, and concepts–all by means of a distinctive medium. Additionally, photographs serve to report a wide and diverse range of content. On the one hand, photographs can tell a story. On the other, they can demonstrate a creative usage of compositional techniques; every choice or instance of angle, lighting, location, etc. can guide the viewer through a piece. These factors contribute to a beauty that often appears in the plethora of questions and emotions photographs evoke.
Many if not most of these questions begin with one of the five traditional Ws: “Who”, “What”, “Where”, “When”, and “why”. Who took this photograph? What is the subject? Where and when was the photo taken? Why did the photographer choose to take it? These questions are necessary to forming an effective understanding of the art at hand. Remember: the photographic lens not only reflects the world surrounding, but the individual as well. By involving oneself in the creative process, the inevitable instance of personalization takes place. Rather, the artist becomes one with the art they create–the two are effectually inseparable. Thus, the artist can come to produce something meaningful to themselves, as well as those who come across their art.
In essence, photography is a teacher that facilitates self-reflection; it initiates an intimate dialogue between me, myself, and I. That is one of the main reasons why I chose to document my surroundings, specifically those around my dorm. All of my life up until now, I have lived in a small (relative to New York City) suburb of Washington D.C.. Though Virginia has afforded me many an adventure, none of them have compared to that of moving to the Big Apple. I would say the most similar experience prior to my transition to college was that from a small Catholic school in Alexandria to a far larger public school in Arlington. After graduating from eighth grade, most of my friends were continuing on to equally small Catholic high schools alongside plenty of familiar faces. Alternatively, I was diving headfirst into uncharted waters. Not only was it my first time attending a public school, but I didn’t know a single person in this new environment.
Since then, I have adapted as well as grown beyond belief, and am now faced with college: another exciting yet daunting chapter of my life. Following high school graduation, the summer flew at an alarming rate, and by the end of August, I found myself in a Brooklyn dorm awaiting the first day of freshman year. I’ve come across many obstacles on my journey thus far, one of the most prevalent being my ability to feel comfortable in my surroundings. I can confidently navigate the subway system. I no longer buy overpriced groceries at Gristedes across the street. I do my own laundry and cook my own meals. However, two months into living in New York City, I still struggle to feel at home. I can’t exactly put my finger on it, but I do not truly feel “one” with my environment. Subsequently, I embarked on a journey to try and find peace with my place in life–to create synergy with myself and my surroundings.
On a cloudy day in October, I decided to head down to DUMBO (Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass) and explore what the East River waterfront had to offer. I brought my camera with me and started taking pictures of things that struck me as interesting. Although many of the scenes I captured are mundane, the act of taking photos helped me to be more mindful. By being present, I was able to better appreciate where I was and what I was seeing.
Because the photographs were taken on a cloudy day, each picture is ruled by gray, overcast skies. Though some might assign this color a gloomy connotation, gray happens to be one of my favorite colors; I find it to be very serene. In addition to this idea of peace, I tried to include natural elements in my photographs, such as flowers, rocks, water, etc., to reinforce the aforementioned theme of growth. I especially like the photo of the merry-go-round through the trees. I like to think of the carousel as a depiction of a distant childhood, affectionately viewed from afar. Though it exists in the past, it remains a part of me.
As one can easily observe, I am not pictured in any of my photographs. I made this decision because I wanted to avoid what Roland Barthes describes in Camera Lucida as “inauthenticity”. He writes, “In front of the lens, I am at the same time: the one I think I am, the one I want others to think I am, the one the photographer thinks I am, and the one he makes use of to exhibit his art. In other words, a strange action: I do not stop imitating myself, and because of this, each time I am (or let myself be) photographed, I invariably suffer from a sensation of inauthenticity, sometimes of imposture (comparable to certain nightmares),” (pg 13). What he means is that, in front of a lens, we fail to exude reality. Upon acknowledging that we are being viewed by others–consciously or not–we ultimately pose. We are not our true selves when knowingly photographed. Therefore, to combat said inauthenticity, I chose to utilize my surroundings as a reflection of my person instead.
Individually, these photos are nothing but simple snapshots–visual connections to the emotions I was experiencing at the time. However together, these photos are representative of my attempt to create a sense of home and familiarity within myself. On a deeper level, I hope these photographs (along with this essay) successfully convey the progression of acceptance and self-awareness. When people view my photographs, I want them to remember that I am behind that lens–that I am one with my environment. Though I am not pictured, these photos act as a mirror, painting a portrait of the stage of life I am in. In seeing these scenes as I saw them, I hope people can come to know me through my surroundings.
