The Blur of it All

The black and white film photos sent a few months later somehow had silver lining around them. Within them holds the thin space, a sacred space of belonging and purpose. The digital download brought tears to my eyes and liquid feelings streamed down my face as I scrolled through. I met Yohan my first year in Paris at the Paris Art Forum along with other inspiring artists and dreamers. He had a film camera and was slightly mysterious to me. He later moved to the City of Lights and we became friends. Intentionally, he texted me this summer to fix a time to take my portrait before I moved. (Photo Credit: AHN Yohan)

We met up in Les Jardins du Luxembourg just after I printed my 154 page Thesis on HOME for La Sorbonne. Walking through the 5th Arrondissement towards my school next to le Panthéon, it felt like a holy moment and book end (literally) of a season.

It was Paris in June. That season of life means a lot to me now. The blur of it all captured is in a snapshot walking with a full backpack through the Latin Quarter towards La Sorbonne. Found on a bench reading my back-pack Bible, there was light in that moment, reality captured on the film of eternity.

There’s a time for everything. This is how film photography works: I’ve learned that the blinks in-between and mundane moments are the portrait of our lives. Tired feet but eyes sparkling with life. A photograph can be a window into another world. Often times I find myself looking into the world of my past... causing me to reflect on my present and have hope for my future. There I was, here I am, where will I be? Relationships are found looking out the window, captured in the frame of an artist’s camera.

Found in a few black and white portraits developed by a dear friend, I see myself a bit more clearly now. The act of light exposure in the mirrors of our cameras can be a prophetic act of the present for our future selves.

If a photograph is a window, my home has many windows.