When I think back to the past few years the feeling of longing to know myself is the thread that runs through everything. Through my projects at school, through the writing on my blog, through my relationships, and above all, through my identity as a photographer.
Now I find myself feeling a little empty. A little empty perhaps, without this obsession running through my days. Somehow, this past year, that longing to know myself was put out of sight.
Maybe it's because, for the first time in my life, I just had to survive. I had a find a job, pay my bills, hold my life together, grow up. For the first time in my life I didn't have a summer to lay on my bed, staring at the sky and peeling apart the emotions running through me. I had to build up this protective layer. Not something permanent. A wax casing, so that none of my former poetics had a chance to sink in before I wound up starving, unemployed, wasting away.
I don't think it's surprising that I've been photographing my empty reflection, and my shadow. I call them shadow selves. They're silhouettes, the literal definition of which is: the dark shape and outline of someone or something.
And there it is. Someone or something. Unspecific. They're self portraits with no information, a person without an identity.
These shadow selves have been the thread that's run through the last year. And it wasn't digging deep. And it wasn't me staring directly into the mirror, or into the lens, but I find myself pleased that even while feeling like my identity as a photographer was lost, I have ended up with this series of images that are indeed very specific. I guess I'm never all the way lost.