reflecting on 2016 // The Idea of You

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First of all, apologies are in order! I'm so, so sorry, blog, and I'm so, so sorry subscribers/friends/Mom. I've neglected you all for the last two months and that's not cool. I didn't mean to leave such a big blank space between notes, but the East Austin Studio Tour happened to fall in the middle of that blog post-less period, and the election was nothing short of a brain melter, and I have never successfully kept up with a blog before in the past, so why should this time be any different? Retract that last little bit of negativity, please -- I'm moving forward with my reflections from 2016, and I'll be doing that by sharing my iPhone with you.

The Idea of You, 2015 --

The Idea of You, 2015 --

The Idea of You is a new, ongoing baby-project that I decided to call a "something" after noticing these recurring themes and patterns in my most prized iPhone photos. When I looked at all of these images side by side, I discovered a collection of moments that I felt a deep emotional reaction to.  I immediately wished I had a place to let them breath - somewhere outside of the Instagram-cell phone void. 

So I uploaded these photos to my website and printed them off in book form under the guise, The Idea of You. (My absolute favorite part about projects is thinking of a title. The title blankets the images, giving them a sense of validity as they start to take on new forms.)

The subject matter within The Idea of You is completely different from my usual, straight up, in-your-face portrait projects. These pictures are moody and not transparent- vague impressions rather than concrete shapes. They were taken at unsuspecting times, when my best camera wasn't ready at hand. In these camera-less moments when a picture was begging to be taken, I would completely beat myself up about it. The thought of missing the potential drove me absolutely crazy. Lately, I've been learning just to shake it off and make due with what I have in hand.

This one photographer I used to work for always comes to mind in these instances. She would scold me for constantly whining about my photo equipment - or extreme lack of it. I graduated college and entered the professional photo world with a terrible digital camera that I would use as a scapegoat to excuse my shitty photographs. Even though I still let myself believe there was some truth behind that claim, this photographer's words have stuck with me over time. "The best camera is the one that you've got, Jo." Translation? "Quit your bitching, and just get it done."

The picture above was taken at the prom for the Texas School for the Blind and Visually Impaired, which is documented each year by photographer Sarah Wilson. I have voluntarily assisted her on this long-term project for the past few years. Each recurring year, the experience is consistently emotional and indescribably humbling.  

The photo up above was taken on one of my very first days at my new job. (Not the jewelry store, to be clear -- & no direct pun intended there, either.)

This was an important week for me- the first week I officially gave up my freelance photography and bartending life for a full-time, nine to five one. The boy I was dating at the time dropped me off at this exact block where Kruger's sits on the corner of, but about 20 minutes ahead of schedule. I was a little nervous so rather than go into the office building early, I spent those 20 minutes looping the same block over and over again. During my last loop around, I walked straight past this scene, but had an immediate wave of regret as soon as I passed it- the coulda-shoulda-taken-a-photo-god-dammit voice, buzzing obnoxiously deep inside my skull. I knew it wouldn't be a groundbreaking, front-cover, life-changing cellphone photo of any kind, but even just the idea of it was enough to get me worked up. I decided to turn back around. 

I made a picture-taking motion towards the jeweler through the window. My fellow nine to five-er smiled, gave me a thumbs up, and continued setting the diamonds out for the day.  

This snap up above was taken in my neighborhood, February 14th, 2016. 

This project - this diary - this scratch pad of my life has been scribbled over so many times that it's getting harder and harder to make the words out clearly. But beneath all the scribble and all the scratches, I can still make out distant impressions of the things at hand. I see pictures of people that have drifted away, and I see moments of joy. I see the spontaneity, the uncertainty, and the isolating loneliness that have very much defined how I perceive myself and my past life experiences. I see the things I like about myself and the things that I loathe.

And through all of this I wonder how much is even transparent to an outside observer and how much gets totally lost on account of the fact that this is my personal diary and I'm only gonna let you read some parts of it anyways, while I white out and blot the dull parts -- or even worse, the really ugly parts. Maybe reading my blotted out diary is not that interesting to begin with. Maybe I just need to write more and white out less. Maybe you like the of idea of The Idea of You, or maybe you don't.

Whatever it is, I'll be cool with. But I'm going to ask you a favor either way. I want to use this blog post to welcome any comments, critiques, and perspectives. Send me a note! Love mail, hate mail, it's hardly-worth-my-time mail -- I'd welcome it all.  How do you initially feel about this as a project? Would you want to see more? What about it is interesting, and what is absolutely not?  

I generally don't ask for validity, but I'm really interested to hear your thoughts. And I generally don't know what I'm doing anyways, but I'm really enjoying these scribbles as of late, and the anticipation of many more to come.