Capturing Timelessness

How did you become interested in photography? What drew you toward fashion photography?

I started years ago. I dabbled in photography in high school. I stopped doing black and white film photography, [because] I wasn’t too good at it. It was pretty hard, and I was more of an athlete. Then, I went to college [at] Cal State Northridge. I started out as a sociology major, and I quickly learned that I did not want to do that. I was like, ‘What can I do?’ So, I became a cinema and television arts major. That seemed more me. And then I was like, ‘I want to be a cinematographer. But where do I start?’ I read somewhere that Stanley Kubrick started taking stills before he became The Great Stanley Kubrick. So I did that. I didn't get serious until maybe a couple of years in, and it just snowballed slowly over time.

I feel like I'm always going to be in love with fashion photography and stills. But right now, during this moment, I'm having this sort of Renaissance within myself—I still want to be a great photographer, I want to make movies, and I just want to make visually appealing art. They go hand in hand. I’ll do both, because why not?

How would you describe your photographic voice? 

I like seeing things I've never seen before. I like seeing perspectives that are different angles of the way I go about creating. I used to be guilty of going to Instagram for inspiration. I don't think it's great for the artistic and photographic ecosystem when you're just looking at your peer’s work for inspiration, because you're not pushing the boundaries—you're not progressing in any way. So, I stopped doing that.

My style asks: How can I bring my identity, my views, and what I think about the world, and put that into my photos? It's not always obvious, but that's how I go about doing things. Sometimes I'm very successful, and other times, maybe not. But, that is how I approach things, and that's how I'm going to continue to approach things so that I can get better. That way the industry can see things they've never seen before. 

There are so many ways that we consume photography now—social media, film, advertising, etc. How do you think this is changing photography?

When Instagram first came out, I was like, ‘Oh, this is great.’ And then as it evolved, I began to get a little jaded. Everyone thinks they're a photographer. So, it's saturating the market, and I feel like my work is devalued in a way. It took me a while to come to terms with how to deal with that, because I'm still trying to figure out how to deal with the way the industry is changing, even today. 

Technology is changing. Social media is changing. What we want to see is change, because everyone has access to everything at any given time. So then, what makes my work more important than someone else's? I used to think of it that way. But the more I think about it, these platforms aren't gonna be around forever. I think about how I can make my work survive and be timeless and just tell a story about myself during this time and not just fit into what's trending.

What are you aesthetically drawn to when you’re photographing or filming?

I think [photography and film] play off one another. When I think of cinematography work—especially recently—I don't think in terms of story, because I'm doing it all myself. I think about it in terms of what is a great standalone image. What do I want to see on screen? What do I want people to feel? With that in mind, I just want to make a beautiful frame and then all the other elements will fall into place. If I just link together a beautiful frame with a beautiful frame, and beautiful movement, then it'll be beautiful. I guess I got that practice from shooting fashion work and just pretty stuff. 

When you’re looking at photographs in a gallery or publication, what strikes you as a “successful” image? What inspires you?

Sometimes you look at a photo and it doesn't feel like a moment or an important moment. And so in any form of photography, whether it's journalism, or fashion, or whatever, I think that I look for moments to where I'm just shocked into thinking, How did you get that? How did that happen? because it’s all a process. There's a photographer, there's a model or subject, there's a place, there's lighting—all of it has to sync up until one moment where you hit the shutter, and it's there. So, I look at how well everything came together in the moment. That's how I judge great work. And that's how I judge my work. It’s very hard to do, but I still aim for that. Who wants to look at a photo that doesn’t feel like a great moment?

This year is full of really particular moments. How does it feel to be a photographer in 2020? 

To be honest, I’ve let a lot of things go. That includes being tethered to a specific aesthetic on my Instagram or not having many people readily available to photograph or feeling like, Oh, it’s been so long, I need to set up a shoot. I've turned inward instead. I've been understanding how I work and sharpening my technical skills. I've been doing self portraits and portrait work, and that fulfills two things for me: 1) It makes me feel better about myself and teaches me how to direct, because I'm not a model. I just learned how to move for the camera that I'm shooting myself with. 2) It teaches me that if I can take these great photos and these lighting situations of myself, then it should be much easier to do with a subject. I'm no longer pressured to put out editorial stuff. We're all locked down. We're all learning a lot about ourselves, so there's less pressure on myself.

What have you been working on in quarantine? Have you developed any new artistic practices?

I made three quarantine films. The first one was good. The second one, I thought, was great. And the third one, I thought, was even better than that. So, it feels good each time I take that step. It's almost confirming I should be doing this. This is what I do.

What inspired these films? 

All of my work center centers around my identity. So, that's my inspiration for two of them. The second one was about my grandmother, and her experience with Emmett Till. It was a documentary piece, because she knew of him, as they were around the same age and lived in the same town. After his murder, she went to his funeral. She's 83 years old. So, I interviewed her. That was because of this climate right now—I wanted people to know that lynching is something hasn't gone away, and that they were lynching children back in her time. She's still alive. She's still here, and she's older than he would be if he were alive today, which is crazy to think about. I'm really glad and proud that I put that out, because I think people need to hear that. But as far as the other work goes, it's me grappling with mental health and love and just everything in quarantine. And it's easy to write, because it's me. So, I just put it out.

Was the conversation with your grandmother the first time you’d worked on a project with a family member? How did it feel to learn about her while doing this film? 

It was the first time I've done that. She's always been a little bit of a mystery to me. She's always had a wall. You know, I've been spending a little bit of time over there. And my dad mentioned that she was at the funeral and I was like, ‘What are you talking about?’ And so I just asked her about it. She's 83 and extremely honest. She was just like, ‘Yeah, I was there.’ And it just felt like the right time to give her a voice for that, because she's been a housewife her entire life with four kids. I just felt like she needed a voice to speak on that.

It’s really wonderful that the project of filmmaking is something that can give voice both to the filmmaker themselves and the subject. 

It almost felt better for me to give someone else a voice and not myself, because I'm on Instagram and stuff talking all the time and saying whatever I want. But, this is someone who never had a platform her entire life. It just felt great to be like, Hey, she lived through a lot. She experienced a lot. You don't have to read about it through history books. This is someone who actually lived through this time, this traumatic experience that changed America. Let’s hear it from her.

What does identity mean for you as an artist? What does it mean in the context of your work?

It’s everything. I think art is best when it's honest. You have to really know yourself well, and you have to know your past experiences well. And you have to spend a lot of time with yourself to make great art. So in that aspect of identity—if I didn't know myself as well—my art wouldn't be as good. It wouldn’t be good at all. So me knowing myself, and even my struggles, helps me make great art. So yeah, identity is everything. 

How do you work through making such intimate, identity-based art in a medium that’s publicly consumed? 

I used to surround myself with people who made a big deal out of things, but I’ve kind of eliminated that from my life, because I know who I am. I think quarantine helps in isolating myself from negative influences and stuff that'll make me think twice. I no longer think twice. I'm able to post intimate work or self portraits that people might think, Why would you post that? It's me. I don't care, it’s just me. 

I think that having to explain art kills it, having to explain why you put that out or why you made it; I don't have to explain it. Removing myself from all of that has made me freer. I think it's making me better at what I do, hopefully. And hopefully, I’ll hold on to that.