Final

Sometimes I get stuck (but don’t we all).

Such a degree of stuck-ness happens mentally, emotionally, and physically. Mental stuck-ness is a repetition of old thinking patterns. Emotional stuck-ness is a repetition of intense feelings. Physical stuck-ness is the inability for the brain to control the body, or the inability for the brain to work with the body.

Basically, nothing works right.

The thick and dark outline called a maze represents a mental stuck-ness.

The wet, red lines represent emotional stuck-ness.

The voice represents an entrapment inside the body, called physical stuck-ness.

Such a degree of stuck-ness birthed frustration station.

frustration station

__________________

Each of us has different experiences that have shaped who we are. Through photography, I reflect on my personal experiences to make something representative of memory. All of my work contains an element of vulnerability. For example, I openly address the gripping effects of depression or the misgivings of my parents. Allowing myself to be vulnerable gives me the authority to see memory clearly. My memories become objective recollections of time and place rather than painful breaches of childhood because I force myself to constantly rehearse past events. I give myself the power to control moments in ways that weren’t possible when they were happening, in real-life. I become what I needed during those difficult times.

I like to classify my work the same way writers categorize their pieces. I am not making fiction, but instead, I am making works of non-fiction. The scroll is like a section of my memoir. I summarize a string of events with words and add visual description to these events through the layering and stitching together of images. I use a projector to relive my past by displaying old family photos into my personal space. The projector is symbolic in this work. It represents a forced rehearsal of memories so that I can better comprehend my current reality.

I constantly expose myself with this repetition of vulnerability, and ultimately, am looking for a clearer understanding of the role I play in my own existence. I examine the moments that have befallen me in an attempt to reconcile misfortune and reconnect with my presence as a singular human rather than a child of trauma. In other words, I am not my parents, and I don’t own their bad decisions.  

Scroll
Archival Inkjet Print, 10.5" x 18'