Embedded Files
MMS 173 Assignment 1:
Scrolling through my gallery was like cleaning my room and finding old memorabilia I tucked away for ol' times sake. There were some that were far too nostalgic for my tiny heart that I had to scroll quickly to make sure I wasn't spending too much time reminiscing, some were reminders that when I'm drunk I shouldn't be allowed to hold my phone or a drink. The three photos that I finally managed to curate served as evidence that I have a soft spot for the imaginary. I can get so easily lost in a reverie (perhaps this is the very reason why I forget to take photos) and see mundane sceneries as opportunities to tell stories. This is why my shots—despite not being incredibly impressive—carry narratives, at least in my head. I imagined stories behind these shots. I planned poems and possibly had maladaptive daydreams about these shots (embarassingly so).
One might scold me for romanticizing the mundane too much, but I find it a good excuse to not simply wait for the day to finish and learn how to appreciate every second of it. Now that I'm enrolled in a photography course, there is no better time to spread this message through intentionally shot moments of beauty—or non-beauty.
Looking back, I believe I have a good eye and that's something anyone can work with! Looking forward, I aim to take photos that always have a story to tell and at least one visible element that begs to be noticed: a light source, a cohesive color palette, or an object that seems out of place.
In this section, you'll see the previous attempts of an amateur photographer who always happens to forget capturing beautiful moments because they're too busy trying to get their jaws off the floor first. The following photos represent the rare moments when they do remember that they have a phone camera sitting idle in their pocket. Check them out and enjoy the personal stories behind them!
sidenote: while I do plan on using my mother's Canon EOS 450D in this course, the photos I included below were taken using my phone (Samsung A73)
narrow alleys and the bashful sun
This was taken at 6:57 in the morning, way past sunrise.
Every morning walk, Jindo (our baby dog) (he's almost 8 but he'll always be our baby dog) and I pass by this narrow alley behind our town church. It is always such a sight to see how the brick wall and the colorful houses sort of sandwich the sky. The identical plants at the bottom of the photo make the church and the houses familiar to each other, while the sky separates them and provides space to breathe.
If you look more closely, you'll see the sun barely winning the battle against the thick clouds. It takes up such a tiny space in the photo, but it actually works in its favor in my opinion. The alley looks like a tunnel with light at the end of it. If I spend more time editing this photo, maybe I could make the sunlight more prominent to enhance this vision better.
Alignment-wise, I think I could've improved the shot. But I also had a giddy dog pulling my arm with his leash as I was taking this photo, so this wasn't really an attempt to capture the perfect shot—this was an attempt to capture the perfect moment.
peach clouds, oh where have you gone?
This photo was taken from our terrace, where I usually lounge in with a journal or a book and get distracted by kids playing, people strolling, or, in this case, the odd difference between the clouds in front of us and (apparently) behind us. When I saw the reflection on the window, I knew I had to take a picture. It reflected vividly the peach, almost golden, dare I say heavenly, clouds from behind our house, while the ones in front of us were dull and gray. Conceptually, I thought it was a good contrast (not to mention a good view!) to write a poem or an anecdote about—didn't Hades warn Orpheus about turning around?
sunlight sings lullaby
I remember being oh so frustrated while I was taking this picture. It was so so majestic in person and I BADLY wanted my phone to see what I was seeing. I wanted to paint it. I wanted to print it out and frame it. I wanted to put it on our altar (I'm only half-kidding). The view was so majestic that I was convinced there was a fairy lingering in my parents' room, ready to take my mother as she slept—the sunlight being their means of lulling my mother to sleep.
The palette of the room is also something to take note of: it almost looks like a set. The balance of light in the room—the dark shadows surrounding the bed and the light source from the window—makes it look like an intentional (albeit soft) vignette emphasizing the subject in the center. Now that I think of it, everything looked intentional: the sunlight from the window, the blanket covering my mother, the position in which she slept. If I could have another chance at taking this photo, I 100% would.
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