Sometimes I tend to measure, in the most tangible and quantitative way, the space I occupy in this world. Every time I look out a window of a building, I look at how many windows I see, and in each window I see, I wonder if there is someone looking back.
Nakaka-lula, as they say in Tagalog. That is the precise feeling that describes what it feels to be putting out the work that you put your heart and soul into. Recently, I’ve been a bit demotivated about my art. I was starting to wonder whether it actually should be considered as art. I’ve been keeping this blog for a little over a year ( I had an old blog before that), and lately it feels like I’ve been screaming into a void. It makes me feel small, and insignificant when I see people my age doing great things, and putting out great work, and here I am, still writing in this blog that nobody reads anyway.
Sorry, I sounded a bit bitter in my previous statement :)) But anyway, I really did feel kind of insignificant. I felt like a teeny tiny voice, among the noise that is life. One of the techniques that I learned in my sessions when I start spiraling into a nervous breakdown, is trying to have a dialogue with myself, without self-judgement and without any presumptions. So as I was thinking about this, I started to realize a few things:
1.) You can never really measure taste: sometimes people like what you put out, sometimes they don’t. The important thing is that you like it.
2.) I started thinking about why I started this blog. It wasn’t really for anyone else, but me. I started this because I wanted to record my journey (and show it to my non-existent children eventually).
3.) Your value to other people, especially to the ones who matter to you, is not based on likes or shares.
And photography for me is such a personal experience, that even the simplest pictures can mean so much to me. So I may not be the best in technique, or in equipment, or in beauty (chos), but I know that every photo that I take, is a piece of me. And no one can take that away from me.