The Value of Art (A Personal Reflection)


And some photos because I don’t like blocks of text either.
also, like, there’s some more on Facebook.
I don’t know where to start. It’s been so long so since I’ve tried to post anything and it’s taken me hours to compose this. I’m not going to tell the winding and harrowing story of the past year of my life (it’s not actually. I mean I’m still pretty self aware that I’m white female in America going to college so it really can’t be that revelatory.). But I will say I’ve learned a lot about myself and more about others this past year and those lessons and memories won’t leave me anytime soon which is for the better.
But this blog is basically my art journals so, most importantly, it’s been five years since I first started my 365 at 15 years old, and I’m still awed, at 20, by the power of photography in my life. Living day to day life provides substance but art and creating enriches the experience. At least that’s how I see it.
Moving on, I didn’t realize how wrapped up I became in my own life until I took a step back and looked at exactly how little content I produced in this last year and a half. I’ve been distracted, I’ve been distant, and I’ve been trying to get by with what comes naturally which is so wrong. I’ve let myself get too caught up in real life.
My second attempt at photography over the summer. Click through to see the piece I put on Flickr.
I thought I was fine, I thought I was “doing me” until I logged back onto Flickr for the first time in few months and saw that so many, from my favorite online community, were living through their work and not missing a beat of life. It wasn’t until I started watching what they produced, reading the stories, and the reflections on their real adventures, that I started thinking. I started thinking about what’s been missing for so long and I’ve reflected on it before but this time was different. I was jolted and I knew that I had to make a change and a thousand things in my life right now are pointing to that notion.
Presently, photography feels like a memory when it should be more familiar to me than anything. I know that I need to get back and start living, again, through my photos because I’m missing so many things.
So, today, I [gently]threw my equipment in my car, drove to the nearest park I could think of, and took the most mediocre self-portraits I’ve taken since 2010 but I’m okay with it because it’s a start and it feels liberating.



And as for that 52 weeks I was convinced I could start last year–I was kind of just an idiot. Like, I definitely still am and I definitely think I can do it this year but that’s because now I’m an idiot with a car and a roommate who’d take up the challenge with me which would be ideal. Idiotic, of course, but in the most ideal of ways.

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