I’m currently decluttering my website. There are photos on here that are at least nine years old, and as someone once told me, you have to let go of the old to make space for the new. So that’s what I’m attempting to do.
The photos in question helped me get where I am today. They were my first introduction to the film industry, helped me get my foot in the door, and, in a way, I hold them in a very special place in my heart and memory. So, it’s only normal to feel bittersweet about deleting them from my website.
It’s intriguing how we choose what to cling to and what we discard in a heartbeat…
Picture this: it's 2018. I’m freshly out of a corporate job and ready to start working on my photography portfolio to land what was, at that point, my dream job. I knew it was going to be hard, but I was eager to put in the work and make a living completely from photography. I really didn’t know how to start, but my boyfriend at the time was studying at film school, so I knew quite a few people there.
One day, a production student from that film school messaged me; she was interested in my work for a second-year fiction film. (I should clarify, I never got paid for any of these productions – they were all student projects, so pure experience for them and for me!) Anyway, I said yes, and the journey to create my portfolio began.
The productions never lasted more than two weeks—two very intense weeks. In that whole year, I worked on three productions (one exercise and two final theses). To be honest, it was fun; I was doing something I liked (and still do!).
The one person who didn’t like it as much was my dad. Now that I think about it, he was mostly anxious for me. Let’s remember, I wasn’t making any money from this, and this whole situation kinda lasted for the whole year. So, to be fair to him, I totally get why he was so worried back then. I mean, I was 28 at that point, a full three years after graduating from photography school, and still not making any actual money from my photography. So yeah, he was understandably anxious about my decisions.
I tried to explain several times what I was attempting to do, but I don’t think he saw it that way then. What he saw was me 'giving away' my work. And to be honest, it was a TON of work. I was so wiped after the last thesis project that when I got back, I slept for like 12 hours straight—it was insane! Haha.
Then, one day, at last—I remember it was New Year’s Eve—I got a call from an online producer. He offered me a job, my first ever 'grown-up,' real-world gig in a production for Teleset! (I must confess, I wasn’t ready for what came next; that production was incredibly exhausting, abusive, and, in some ways, horrible—but that’s a story for another time.) And finally, I had a portfolio to show off my work.
To say it was rewarding would be an understatement; I was so happy and proud of myself—I felt ecstatic! Not long before all this, I had started to doubt myself. My dad was constantly telling me to get a 'real job,' and I know he didn’t mean to be harsh; he was genuinely worried about me. And so when I got that call and got the job, I knew he was as relieved as I was. He finally saw where I wanted to go and what I had to do to get there; he understood.
And that's how it all started! Now, after seven years, I think it’s only fair to let go of those photos and that feeling of being just a newbie, 'cause I know that’s not the case anymore. They served their purpose back then, and now it’s time to put them in the memory box—or, in this case, the 'memory blog'—so I have space for all the new stuff that'll keep coming my way.
It’s time to let go, be thankful, and know that I’ll always have room for something more.
