It is almost impossible for me to not cop out on this. If there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that I live in a constant terror of disappointing people, and it has had a great influence in my art. This influence was initially to create the work that I thought others might want to see, but eventually developed into a therapeutic process of making photographs for no one but myself.
I take my pictures and explore my emotions and then export them to a little hard drive where they will live forever quietly to never burden me or anyone. This is why I’ve learned that I have spent 5 years earning a degree in something I can never do for work or money. Throughout the years photography has become something that is intensely private yet incredibly important to me.
At the same time I still worry and am fearful of showing people what I create. Because it isn’t really for anyone else. I have battled a lot in my past few semesters about my work and what of it is more important to display. I fought viscously with my professor over which pieces in my thesis would be displayed in a gallery show I would never even view. My work is currently hanging in a museum I will never visit. I enjoyed looking through the pictures of my friends at the opening, but all and all was very glad to not have gone.
I don’t have a favorite image. I just don’t look at my work that way. Instead I’ve posted one of the most meaningful ones to me from my thesis. A series of self portraits with my face turned away from the camera. I can’t find the edited version on my computer, so this is a bit dark and rough, but it’ll do. Many nights during the grips of withdrawals I would stay up and watch Thomas sleep as we barreled further into our addictions. So many times I could feel myself almost wanting to shake him awake and tell him we needed to turn back. I never did.
If you stopped fucking looking at me like that.