I've been avoiding starting a blog for quite awhile now. For the longest time, I had no idea what I'd even blog about. Well, I still have no idea. I do, however, know that I take a lot of photos that I'd really love to share, so why not start a blog for the whole world to see (cuz that's not scary at all...)!?! But I think of this less as a blog and more as a photo journal—a record of my life and the people in my life I cross paths with—something that will tell a story using few words and a whole lot of pictures.
I realized how much I loved photography when I started to have dreams about a photo before I had even taken the photo. December of my junior year of college, I dreamt I was at my school's library, standing at the end of a hallway stacked with never-ending rows of books, and wishing more than anything I had my camera to capture that moment. A week or two later, I went to the library and took the photo below.
I think photography has become something that’s sort of installed in my brain. It's almost like another language that I've just always made sense of. That may seem a little loopy...but I actually remember feeling a similar way when I took a nude figure drawing class my freshman year of college. After spending hours and hours learning to draw the human figure and focusing on the lines and shapes of the body’s form, I would leave class and catch myself mentally drawing people I’d pass on the sidewalk or standing in line for the bus. It just became a part of my thought process and the way I interpreted my surroundings.
So now that I've graduated college and moved to the big city of Chicago, I figure this is the time to create something to motivate me to do what I love as well as record my journey through the unknowns of life *hence this blog*.
I owe this clarity of mind to a wonderful little place called Walloon Lake. This past summer, I spent about two weeks at my grandmother’s lake house in Petoskey, Michigan. Walloon is a place I have always had in my life. People who grew up spending their summers at the lake understand it to be uniquely its own. We'd all agree its just pretty god damn spectacular.
Kent C. Ryden describes a place's "real geography" to be a representation of the mind more so than of the earth. What encompasses a place's invisible landscape are the narrative stories of what happen to people in a place—of what they have done with the things they have found there. So really, a place is not a place at all but rather a representation of ourselves—of moments we have experienced and that have shaped us into who we are. With time comes memories and with memories come the feeling of home. All my memories of Walloon Lake create an attachment more meaningful than any ordinary place. I have many places I consider to be home, but Walloon is one of my very first and most cherished.