Mercurial
There’s so many different stories to be told when you point the lens of a camera towards another
human. The crease of eyebrows, shifting eyes and posture, and tilt of the head tells a long tale, true
or not, for photographer and viewer. Transforming people into characters, into icons, is something
that always drew me to photography. And in January 2020, I thought I figured out my next brilliant
scheme: I made a tinder specifically to find and make photos of these strangers. A constant stream
of people, with passing stories, being immortalized to my liking. The semester was looking to be an
exciting one.
Haha, yeah, fuck covid though.
Obviously we’re here. In quarantine. Alone or with the few roommates, family members, or pets we
find ourselves sharing space with. Not exactly ideal for any kind of working, but especially not for
the portrait photographer. There’s really only one reliable model you have if you’re alone. And that,
unfortunately, is yourself.
I despise pictures of myself. There is no intrigue, there is a story I already know and tire of. There is
no mystery in expression nor tale to be told that I can hear outside of the one I know. But what else
is there to do in quarantine? Who else is there to make photos of?
This work is the painstaking exploration of self portraiture. There is a strange reconciliation between
myself as the photographer and as subject, making photos of the familiar, and yet still being caught
off guard by the strange angles and views of myself I don’t get to observe. It is alienating in a sense,
to see the body I inhabit occupy space in a way that doesn’t align with what I know in my head, but
it is because of that I’m starting to push myself more now in quarantine.
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