I heard a girl admit on a podcast that when she was little she dreamed of being famous one day. As a star, naturally, her home would be converted into a museum. Everything would remain in tact to show the world where she would brush her teeth, read her night stories, watch TV and so on.
She grew up with this mentality documenting most moments of her life. I wonder how that affected what she captured and what inspired her. Did she consciously look for things to build her image and contribute to the galleries dedicated to her remembrance? What a curious existence she must have had thinking about how someone would surely be looking at it all one day.
I wonder if we maybe aren't living like that now?
Publishing things for the world to see and notice us. Sometimes when I'm getting the perfect shot, I think about how the image will look posted, shared with the world. I consciously photograph scenes of my life in much the same way this girl may have.
Why do we take photos and show the world? Why do we enjoy looking at others' photos and seeing the world trough their lens?
Perhaps it's somewhere between narcissism and a deep yearning to belong. Maybe we learn, maybe the documentation will prove we were here, we existed and it meant something.
Somewhere in this Brazilian market square, this scene was begging to be caught. I got it.
This is an area outside a bar where a woman missing teeth told us our American accents sounded beautiful. It was the first time I've believed this.
Beer and a makeshift pina colada just because.
Laughter, running and love at the beach.
This is a tiny space next to the microwave where all my favorite vices were kept.
A little island of rocks off the beaches of Brazil.
This is a freshly-rolled cigarette and a damn good cup of coffee.
Here is a reminder of balance, opposing forces and my long toes.
This was my view from bed every night. I would read, check my phone and wonder if the old TV actually worked. I never checked.
This is coffee and a gif app meeting.
A wall that looked like a postcard.