Why I do, what I do.
With the world feeling dystopian as it is, I’ve been feeling very small. When I was first uprooted, from what felt like a fairly nicely moulded life in London, I was hurt. The tears in the life that I had built felt raw, the saltiness of the unapologetic speed and magnitude of change that lay in-between the cracks were uncomfortable, and I felt heavy.
The only thing I could do was be still, and be grateful for the things that were in my life. It was privilege, and the kindness of family that gave me that space to reflect, and I am ever grateful for that.
After distancing myself from my camera’s for a little while, whilst I licked my wounds, and used my eyes to take photographs, I came back to my original driving force to do what I do. I reflected on life, the world and the universe. It is estimated there are around 100 Billion stars in one Galaxy and around 100 billion galaxies in our universe. Contemplating those sizes, makes everything so irrelevant, and made me question (as many do) why? What the fuck is the point of us being here. What is the point of consciousness, where are we going, where did we come from. Why, why, why?
It was at this point that I stopped myself, and reminded myself that I was a human being, doing the human thing of thinking incredibly humanly centric. Thinking that we are the absolute bee’s bullocks of this entire existence. That we are powerful, larger than life beings, that have won at life because we have words and our version of consciousness that makes us special little twinkly unicorns better than other beings.
Removing that aspect of my thinking, I continued contemplating, jumping from conclusion to conclusions, until at some-point realising I was jumping up and down, but always landing on this grounding notion; There is no reason. Life is incomprehensibly random and unpredictable. The fact that earth is in this spot of the universe is random, the fact that I was born with this sense of self is random. There is no reason - so I might as well enjoy it.
This tied in with my love for the creative and photographic world. Ever since I can remember I’ve been in awe of the visual world. I remember the blue of the moonlight spilling into my cot, and looking at my leg and my arm, curious by these things that were connected to me and the way they looked in this light. I remember, lying on the tiles in our garden watching the Ants, squinting my eyes to see the patterns they were making, looking through balloons to see how they distorted the world around me. Looking at trees, and patterns, buildings, people, water, wheels, anything and everything. Looking looking looking.
It’s incomprehensible that we’re alive, not to mention conscious. I’m so grateful that I can look and see. That I can feel a sense of beauty for this world that I inhabit. I’m grateful to be able to feel such a wide range of emotions, to see such a wide range of colours and shapes, to hear such a wide range of sounds, to taste such a wide range of tastes and to feel such a wide range of feelings. And all along be able to process them and attach my own sense of self onto that is a true delight.
So when people (and myself) ask me why I photograph. I think it’s my way of expressing my joy, love and curiosity for life and consciousness. Dedicating myself to being a grateful observer of the world and souls around me.
