I love taking pictures but I haven't done it enough in the last few months and I have an idea of why this is so, but I'm not too convinced about it. This sunday morning was calm and the light coming in from the blinds decided to surprise me once again by manifesting itself in a beautiful new way: juxtaposed with my Beatles' wall piece. I threw on my new thrifted skirt that my mom washed for me and I had left to dry, hung up, during the night. I also put on a sweater that I bought along with the skirt.
Self-portraiture has been my photographic...um, style (?) ever since I began photography in 2008. I used to photograph my cousin Emily a lot but I don't see her often enough now. I also photograph my little sister at times when I'm in the mood and when she allows me to dress her up and make her suffer through posing for long periods of time until I get just the right shot. (Poor girl!) But most of the time I only have myself and my camera (and recently a tripod that I "borrowed" from my uncle, too). I could complain about my lack of models but I am actually completely comfortable with taking pictures of myself all of the time. I would like to have bigger photographic projects with models and cool locations, but I am satisfied with what I can work with.
Self-portraiture has become a form of therapy for me. I am comfortable in front of my own camera. I am myself, even when I end up making awkward poses (like the ones displayed above), not knowing what to do last minute. If I were to show the world all of the self-portraits I have, it would be pretty embarrassing and not because of the amount of them (though there are a lot -- so many that I've never dared to count or estimate), but because of the honesty of them. I am me, in my most human form: in all of my physical and emotional flaws. I take pictures of myself when I am sad and crying, happy and smiling. I take pictures when I'm mad and pictures when I feel even the slightest bit beautiful. A have pictures worth over 3 whole years of my life. I could dig out any picture file from my computer or cd's and find a significant piece of my life within. I have pictures of my old house, my old haircuts, the times when I used to wear eyeliner, the time when I lived with my cousin, the time I lived in apartments, when I moved to my current house, the times when I would take pictures of my clock while waiting for my boyfriend to visit, the times when I would dress up, when I used to wear colorful tights and skirts only, the times when I would rearrange my room, the healing process of the burn I got on my stomach, the times when I would cry about my boyfriend leaving to a different state, the times when I cried about our break-up, the times when I started eating healthier, the times when I went thrift shopping, when I was happy about having a better relationship with my family, when I first got my glasses, when I was grateful just to live, on and on and on and on. I have it all. Sometimes I look through my files and discover forgotten memories and I'm able to revive them just through looking at them in the form of millions of colored dots on a computer screen. Sometimes I feel like I'm cheating myself of life because of my constant reliving and remembering the past. At times I want to give it up, delete all the pictures, all evidence that I ever was. But most of the time I'm grateful that I picked up on this wonderful (and surely sometimes terrible) hobby. It has helped me become comfortable with who I am and who I've been. I regret nothing.
Life moves on and the pictures will pile up.
