Looking back on the year

You will recognize your own path when you come upon it, because you will suddenly have all the energy and imagination you will ever need. – Jerry Gillies

As the year 2021 draws to a close, it is time to reflect on what I have accomplished with my photography this year.

Much like 2020, I have been photographing close to home in 2021. Since my trip to the U.K. in January 2019, I have not traveled out of the United States for nearly two years. The international travel void is a rarity for me as I always look for opportunities to embark on photography adventures. The unforeseen circumstance of not being able to travel overseas, seeing new sights and making images of places I have never been to before is admittedly quite a change for me. By looking back at the bodies of work I have accomplished during those years, I realize I accomplished more than I have anticipated.

Before I put together my web site earlier this year with the help from my good friend Bruce, I had spent a lot of time editing and curating the immense number of images through my archive. I decided most of the images I wanted to showcase on my web site were those that were taken close to home for the past two years. None of the images I took locally were the grand landscape images I used to take on international trips. They were intimate studies of local places that were not known for being photogenic. Without any famous landmarks or sights to anchor my compositions, I had to shift my perspective towards utilizing ordinary subjects. By making compelling images out of uninteresting places and moments, I learned to rely on my sensibility and instinct to guide me as to what works and what not. In doing so, I created bodies of work that felt deeply personal. Instead of seeing this period of creating close to home as a detriment, I have come to realize this being a blessing in disguise. Unknowingly I have uncovered a part of my visual muscle that I was not aware of it being in existence. I feel the bodies of work I created are testament to my growth as a photographer.

During these two years, I learn the importance of finding my own voice and cultivating my vision as a photographer. Before my international travels have come to a halt due to the pandemic, I have been going on photography workshops and trips regularly to places I wish to go photograph based on the images I see on the internet. Instead of heeding my own interests, I followed the footsteps of those who came before me. While I have accumulated a lot of wonderful memories, and as an extension, lots of great images, I never give myself the opportunity to make inquiries within as to what really speaks to me as a photographer. Undoubtedly, I have steadily made improvement to my technical skills, and I have become a proficient photographer. I noticed while I was good at was making copies of other people’s visions, I didn’t know if I had a vision that truly belonged to me, and as time went on, I harbored this disappointing feeling of not knowing what I truly love to do with my photography. This period of working close to home has provided the opportunity to confront my doubt head on.

Here are a few things I did during the past two years that help uncover my own vision when it comes to photography.

I have been printing a lot more. I know the time an image I take speaks to me is when I instantly feel the need to print it. I also know when something strikes a chord and is worthwhile to trigger the shutter is when I wonder how it will look in print. I am aware if an image I deem is worthy of a print, it means I love it, and that’s what counts. The commitment to bring an image from conception to print sends a strong signal as to what material speaks to me and are worth my time to pursue.

During this past summer, I grew bored with my photography. I struggled to find material that interested me. Instead of giving my photography a pause, I fell into the habit of watching more youtube videos that promoted camera gear hoping they would get me out of a creative rut, instead of making inquiries within, I was looking outside for solutions. I acquired camera gear that didn’t give me the creative spark I was hoping. But the experience did teach me one thing. I realize what had been working well for me before was indeed working. It is never about the camera gear, and it is always about what lies inside me. No amount of fancy camera gear can resuscitate my photography when I loss the drive, the interest and motivation to produce.

I learn to ignore the advice that well intentioned friends and family members give me. When listening to too many voices, I find myself struggling between other people’s views and my intuition. In the end only by pleasing myself can I create my best work. No matter how much expertise someone has, they cannot help formulating my own vision if I don’t have one. I need to do the heavy lifting myself if I wish to grow as an artist. I also decide to stop caring what other people think about my work. The urge to please others doesn’t give me any fulfillment, instead it makes me feel insecure and hollow with what I do. It is just me, my work and what I think of it that matters the most.

My good friend Bruce gives me good advice to practice photography celibacy occasionally. The proliferation of images is immense nowadays. When I first started out learning photography, it made perfect sense looking at other photographers’ work. It even helped speeding up my learning process by copying some of the other photographers’ images. But there comes a time when we must stop looking at other people’s work, copy them, and take them as our own. Instead of focusing on acquiring others’ vision, it makes more sense to focus on mine. Luckily by photographing areas close to home, I have no frame of reference as to what I can do with the material I encounter, I therefore can experiment freely without any self-imposed restrictions when I have literally nothing to compare to. I find the experience liberating.

In the end, vision is simply the sum of my life experience that cause me to see the world in a unique way. When I look at a scene and imagine it a certain way…that is my vision. It has always been there, but my lack of confidence about my ability didn’t allow it to flourish and shine. The layers of insecurity, valuing other people’s opinion over my own, fear of failing, continually imitating others inhibit my growth. Each time I value others over my own, I bury my instinct and my creative impulse. These two years of working on my own have taught me vision has more to do with having the trust in myself. Once I build up the confidence with regards to my skills and learn to pursue art on my own terms without feeling the need for acceptance, my own voice shines through.

Trust your gut. Honor your voice. Let your inner light shine through.