Friday, May 13, 2011

Le Photo Book

I've spent the past month shooting, processing, printing, scanning, lightrooming and organizing this book as the final part of my photography class (which, admittedly, has has it's ups and downs (mostly downs)). Check it out. But you have to view it full screen, otherwise you can't see the images as well as you should. I've put enough work into this, you can click the fullscreen button.

Here's my artist's statement (that's the first page that you can't read in blurb preview)

I spent the summer of my sixteenth birthday on a college study abroad. As all good things start, I felt tremendously overwhelmed at the beginning of the trip. On day three, I got horribly lost, but through a little talent and a lot of luck found my way home. That night was the night I decided I wanted to stay because I felt empowered and I had gotten a taste of what it means to get lost.
Throughout that summer, I consciously tried to get lost, in every dimension I possibly could. The thing I discovered, however, is how elusive getting lost is. I would get lost on one street one day, and wave my way home through streets, taxis, subways and streetcars. The next day  I would head down the same street because I knew it had more to offer. But the rawness of being lost was gone. My internal GPS, it seemed, knew that there was a way home. As it turns out, you really can’t get lost in the same place twice.
Upon reflection, I’ve come to the conclusion that the value in getting lost is the energy of knowing nothing and defining everything. It’s like everything I know helps me understand where I am, but there are always giant voids I get to fill in whatever manner I want. There is something exceptional about the first interpretation of a place, a building, a person.
These photographs have been taken as I have had the opportunity to experience new places. A few of them are on various travels, but most are taken in downtown Salt Lake City. My general attitude toward Utah is disinterest; it seems that Utah has given me all it has to offer. But I’ve recently started a Sunday morning tradition of going downtown, to the Utah I don’t know, to shoot. I’ve discovered the same exhilaration in getting lost in Salt Lake City as I found in Vienna, because as it turns out, Utah still has so much to offer me. Sometimes I get scared, because the Salt Lake City west of I-15 is different than Sandy. I start to feel conspicuous in my Lexus in a way that I never feel in the Waterford parking lot. I worry when another person walks by, but I have started to learn to relax my nerves, because he’s just getting to wherever it is he’s going. To me, these pictures represent an outsider’s view. They reflect my graceless first reaction.

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