The photograph of the pumpkin

Photography and I met early on, at a time when I did not know what I was meeting or how much it would impact my life. It came to me how you would expect, in the form of a camera. Immediately, I felt connected. I remember it became a regular affirmation of mine- I’m going to be an artist. In my big red marker writing, ‘When I grow up, I want to be an artist.’ I remember thinking- I'm not exactly sure how- but there must be a way. When the camera arrived into my life, suddenly things changed and I began to document.

Documenting wasn’t a new concept to me- my mother was a documentarian in many ways. She was an artist of sorts, a gardener, a lover of music, an obsessive scrapbooker, and always carried a camera. She wrote journals, she took photographs and she compiled them very meticulously into thick, heavy, scrapbooks that outlined the details of our youth and general existence. Like many mothers, interested in what their kids were eating, what they liked, what they didn’t like and what their days consisted of. This was paired with beautiful images taken on 35mm film that she never considered to be art. I was always fascinated by seeing these. I wanted to see people for what they were, to me that always started with what they photographed. I began photographing things I cared about, the first image I ever took on my Polaroid camera was a photo at my kitchen table of my first carved pumpkin sitting beside my favorite stuffed animal. To me, it was profound and timely. 

I continued to be drawn to what art could give me, the process, the end result, and the pure excitement beforehand. I wanted to craft, to write, to paint, and always to photograph. My first real desire to pursue photography came from my first encounter with the internet. It opened up a world for me that I was unaware of and its impact has been integral ever since. My wide eyes at the age of 12 were lit by a huge monitor that I would sneak onto late at night when everyone was asleep. I would scroll in awe, mind-boggled by beautiful, interesting images that were unlike anything I had ever seen. These weren’t like photos I saw on billboards or in magazines or hanging on the walls of friends' houses. These were expressive and provocative and all I thought was how badly I wanted to take images like these. The photographer that I was captivated by was named Benoit Paille, a Quebec-based photographer whom I found on a website called Deviantart. The first image I saw by him, was a large man sitting nude on a chair in his old, dirty kitchen. I could not understand why I loved this image so much- it's graphic, and it had no context. Why would anyone want to photograph this? My young mind thought. And why did I find it SO captivating? It was beautifully lit, and his expression was jarring. This to me felt like an image where I was able to understand someone so deeply and in such a poignant way that I thought, this must be what image making is all about. I slowly began to visualize how one could capture these seemingly mundane yet intense and powerful scenes. This was a turning point for me in understanding the kind of work I wanted to create and that I wanted to see.

Photography became a major guide for me, not for understanding it, but for helping me to understand myself. It was a force that became so evident in my life that it took hold of my sense of identity and felt so embedded as though it had never not existed. I began to feel creative urges and senses and looking around became one of my most calming practices. Seeing, observing, taking notice and considering how to capture it. Even if I didn’t, it reminded me that I could. Just this could help me to make sense of where I belonged and what I was capable of. Like many powerful and intense relationships- it felt tension at points. It needed to be periodic in my life for me to understand the amount of meaning it held. I would banish it in the tangible ways I knew how to regain perspective. It would worry me from time to time, the pressure I felt, or the creative drain that seemed to ensue regardless of whether I was shooting too much or too little. I went away traveling and I thought to myself if I want to truly appreciate this - I won't bring my camera. If I want this to be about the places then I will leave it at home. Through this time- I felt lost and found all at once. I reimagined what my life could look like as a person who isn’t documenting and who is simply living. Someone in the background existing within a moment and nothing past that. With practice, this became a great joy to me and opened up a newfound passion. This newfound love did not replace photography but seemed to open up a way to create balance in my life, something I had always struggled with. Knowing this was possible.

I’ve found such spirit in art. It's been there for me in the darkest of times and in the brightest, it has been more patient and kind to me than anything I've encountered. It has taken me by the hand and walked me down through a land of the known and unknown, through quietness and through noise, through space and time and memory. For that, I feel deeply grateful. Art as a practice is a light that feels impossible to dim. Something I can look to in moments of doubt, of unrest and of fear - for that image, I'm constantly chasing.