Marissa Wu
Self Portrait with the Japanese Maple
Current location: San Francisco, Bay Area
Hope says that home is neither here nor there. So, for this anniversary exhibition, a double exposure self-portrait seemed fitting.
Double exposures are nifty things. Two photos in one frame, both here and not, fading in and out of each other. It’s how this year has felt. Seven months in Paris, six months in California, thinking ahead to the next destination and pining for the last.
Many ask me if I want to return to France, and I always confidently answer. It keeps things simple and neat. But, I don’t know. Do I?
Elsewhere
I used to think I was good with “big” adjustments. Although never labelling myself the “adventurous” type, my decisions always seemed to involve me flying by the seat of my pants. Except replace the pants with a skirt and I forgot the belt. That was Paris. And also, maybe university. Big moves and far away places have never intimidated me, and even if they did, my desire to see them outweighed any fear to hold me back.
However, now that I find myself searching for footing on what was once familiar ground, I am thinking, too often, of Elsewhere. The problem with Elsewhere is that it is always remembered more affectionately than it deserves. It consumes me until I would rather be there than here.
Outwardly, coming back to America has been “easy.” I’ve learned to steel myself and get in the car, and four months later I find that my iron grip on the steering wheel has relaxed into nonchalance, even at 85mph as cars still pass me. I’ve found somewhat of a routine again, although, of course, it is less charming and never will be as lovely as Paris.
In other ways, it has been difficult — finding community and finding my place. And that’s when my thoughts begin to wander to walks on the Seine, cycling through the vineyards of Champagne, spontaneous wanderings through Saint Germain at midnight, and the marvels of art as life and life as art.
I am on a mission to not only choose joy, but to choose gratitude. There is a multitude of things I can be thankful for. I’ve just been wrapped up in the fact that though I have everything I need, it’s not quite in the way I was wanting or envisioning. This is the portal that whisks me to Elsewhere. While daydreams are fun, this one is particularly treacherous, because it threatens, always, a tinge of unhappiness.
I am choosing gratitude, right now, for chilly fall mornings, all the cups of hot chocolate I have not yet consumed, long walks in the City, friends (new and old), art, and that the beauty in the everyday, though different, does not elude me.
May you choose joy — and gratitude — today and everyday.
Sunset on Bishop’s Peak
This photo, for me, is a reminder of reconciliation. For the past five years or so, I’ve lived in the family home on-and-off, bouncing between California and Boston, before a year and a half stay in France. Five years is a long time, especially for children. We grow and change quickly, and if you’re not present, you’ll find us nearly unrecognizable.
This is what happened with I came back. I barely recognized my brothers, all three who were well on their way to approaching six feet tall with deep voices, not baritone, but in comparison to how I left them, may as well have been.
They were no longer little kids but nearly (if not already) adults, with opinions and personalities of their own. I was, admittedly, taken aback. Since my arrival, my youngest brother and I have had our fair share of verbal sparring, poking and jabbing each other in an attempt to have the leg up. While things are not sour between us, it’s definitely not a warm, fuzzy relationship, either.
So, to my great surprise, as I sat, breathless, on a bench at the top of Bishop’s Peak, Sam bounded over and offered to take me up a boulder. This was the result, and one of the best hours of the whole trip as we clambered up and then back down, a team.
Vallejo Street Dahlias
Bouncy dahlias growing on Vallejo Street. Through a florist friend, I accidentally got myself invited to a local Bay Area dahlia farm, where the three of us meandered along the lanes of the season’s last blooms.
35mm film; 14x11; deckled 350gsm 100% cotton paper, 60mm thick matte finish, hand-torn edges, signed by the artist. $109
12x18 posters available upon request, $40
Mendocino Coast
Growing up, Southern California was a frequent destination as we paid annual visits to Mickey mouse and the occasional visit to family. In my world, Northern California ended with the San Francisco Bay Area and Napa Valley.
Upon returning Stateside, I decided that, as part of my “document all of California” project, it was time to see what was north of me, and Mendocino seemed like a good starting point. Miles of endless coast on the PCH, with steep drops, crashing waves, windy roads, and impatient Subarus that hugged the curves as they zipped and beeped their way down the road.
We walked along a narrow dirt path for this photo, surrounded by dry grass and ocean, at the beach but tucked under our sweaters. It’s not Paris, but it’ll do.
35mm film; 14x11; deckled 350gsm 100% cotton paper, 60mm thick matte finish, hand-torn edges, signed by the artist. $109
12x18 posters available upon request, $40
Beauty in the Everyday
the journey continues here at home.
One of my first walks around the neighborhood after returning, anxious to test my Hasselblad, Ansel. I realized that I had been so preoccupied by Elsewhere that I had missed the simple beauty in front of me. It took five years to finally appreciate it.
I’m a film photographer, storyteller, and flower-loving Francophile telling stories in San Francisco, California & Paris, France. Find me wandering with my film cameras (named Ansel, Cecil, and Norman), looking for the next adventure! That, or at the nearest florist. I believe that love is "revealing the beauty of another person to herself," and I can’t wait to meet you!