It's a Sharp Shock (To Your Soft Side).

Home.


Feeling homesick, my latest photo endeavors are centered around things that remind me of home.


First: An email I recently received from my amazing grandma who, after a week of my neglecting to call her and thank her profusely for the amazing care package she sent me for Easter, took matters into her own hands and instead contacted me. For some reason this email in particular struck a chord in me... The title is so sweet... So informal--so unlike my grandma's usual put-togetherness... I can't really describe it, but there's my attempt.


Second: The quilt my mom, as well as all the important ladies in my life (mommy, sister, grandma, aunts, etc.) made for me last summer. It is always a part of the tangled up mess of fabric and pillows I call my bed, and every time I snuggle up with it I am reminded of how much love I am literally surrounded by, and I feel a little less lonely. The quilt is a tangible representation of my family's love and support, without which I would be lost.


Third: Letters from friends and family received over the course of this year. I've always thought letters were far better than any email or text, so I try to write my friends as often as I can. Plus there is something so wonderful about looking into your mailbox and realizing there's a letter in there just waiting for you to read it. It's old fashioned I know, but I love it.


Fourth: Homemade cookies from my family. There is nothing better than a home-cooked meal, or treat. I asked a lot of my friends what they miss about home and almost every single one of them said the one thing they missed was their mom/dad/grandma's cooking. Food = Nostalgia. Food = Love.


Fifth: A picture of my mom and I from last summer. We went to SAM to see the Andy Warhol Media Works exhibit and before going in you could take your picture in a photo-booth and post it on a giant wall along with thousands of others. So, my mom and I being who we are, jumped in and took a bunch of goofy pictures of ourselves. The photo is nothing special, and it's just a little tiny thing, but it's one of my favorites, and I keep it pinned to the wall right by my bed.


Being so far away from the people I love has been so so SO difficult for me, but these little things that seem silly to anyone else are constantly reminding me that distance don't mean no thing. And when I'm feeling sad or alone, all I have to do is eat one of grandma's cookies or wrap myself up in the quilt or glance at the collage of photos pinned to my wall, and there, in the threads, ink and dough of those objects is my family's love and support. And I feel better, even if for only a passing moment.


My family is what keeps me going, and inspires me to be the best person I can be each and everyday. There it is, the cheesiest, most clichéd line in the history of cheesy clichéd lines.


But it's true. (That's WHY it's a cliché.)


So here's to the things that remind YOU of home,
-Lo

And We Danced/And We Cried/And We Laughed/And Had A Really, Really, REALLY Good Time.

New York City. Macklemore.
What an insane day.


By some act of God we managed to make it to Webster Hall Saturday night. It was touch and go for a while there, but we made it, $60 poorer from the cab we had to take from Saratoga to Albany, a little more subway savvy after accidentally ending up in Harlem, and goddamn soaking wet from the torrential downpours Ben Haggerty and his crew brought with them from Seattle.

In the end it didn't even matter. Part of life is dealing with the curveballs.

It's funny (I feel like I say this a lot... No?) that in spending the whole day in New York City--a place so entirely different from Seattle where I'm from, I would realize how much I miss my own beautiful city.

It must have been that combination of rain and Northwest rap... Both well known in the town by the sea. Hearing him rap about the Mariners and KJR Radio (KJR Seattle! Channel 95.7! Got the jingle stuck in my head now...) and Northwest soul and the rain... It was overwhelming. Those are things I grew up with. Little stupid things like Safeco field, or a 206 area code--things that seem so inconsequential when you have them around you 24/7, but when all of the sudden they're gone you realize how much you miss it all, and how much you just want to be back in the place that makes you you.

And it is. Seattle and West Coast culture are such a huge part of who I am. 

So you can imagine being at this concert... Inevitably, it reminded me of the days when I would drive my old-ass-broken-down Volvo through downtown or along Alki or up by school blasting Crew Cuts or Irish Celebration with all the windows rolled down as if to say 'What up Seattle? I know I'm a motherfuckin' badass.' When he sang My Oh My, I nearly cried. When he sang The Town, I felt an overwhelming sense of Northwest pride. 'Yeah bitches,' I thought as I watched and listened and sang along, 'That's where I'm from! Y'all New Yorkers got nothin' on me. That's my city. That's my jam!'

Sometimes out here in New York, so far away, I feel lost... I feel like I forget who I am. When I came to here, I knew who I was--I knew what I wanted in life and where I was going. I had a plan. Nothing could have stopped me.

Of course that all went to shit.

How could it have not? Leaving your home--your friends and family--turning your life upside down, can have that effect on a person.

That said, moving out here has been an amazing adventure despite my homesickness. And even though being away from the place that makes me me--the only place I have ever truly felt grounded and secure, has been the hardest thing I've ever done in my entire life, I don't regret my decision. Not even for a second.

I don't believe we should always feel grounded. I think part of life is about being uncomfortable. It's about trying new things, new places, new people, and seeing what works for you. It's how we find ourselves. It's scary as shit, but how else are we supposed to do it?

I'm doing my best.

I realize that's a lot to say about one concert, but what can I say--it was a great show...

Here's to the filthiest city in the world.
-Lo

A Little Seattle Sweetness... For Your Listening Pleasure.

Hands Up. Guns Out. Represent. That World Town.

Why does M.I.A describe India so perfectly? Of course that's the biggest cliche ever, as well as slightly racist, but there it is.
I've said it.
Everyday on our way to school, I'd listen to Kala and look out the bus window onto the dusty, bustling streets of Hyderabad and I'd think to myself 'I'm in a fucking movie right now.'
The combination of the street with all it's color and grime mixed with M.I.A's perfectly chaotic beats come together to form the biggest cranial clusterfuck of your life.
And I mean that in a good way.
Everywhere you look there's a million things going on--there's a million colors, a million people, a million cars, a million sounds. Everything you could possibly imagine happening in one place at one time is going on. And then some.
It's like New York City on acid. Everything moves so fast and changes so frequently if you're not constantly paying attention you miss it all.
It's funny... (Although not at all) It is a place where despite the extreme poverty--despite the pollution, overpopulation, heat and corruption, India is one of the most alive places I've ever been. There's a kind of spirit there.
And it's quite infectious.
So even though you produce more sweat in one day than you ever have in your entire life leading up to it, and even though you feel a deep sense of guilt as you pass tent city after tent city, you can't help but feel a sense of happiness--a sense of purpose when you're there.

Like traveling to many places, Nothing (capital N) can prepare you for India. As a part of our schools study abroad program we had to take a bullshit class on "Global Leadership." It makes me laugh thinking back on that class, and how little it actually did for us.
All that preparation for nothing.
You can eat all the Indian food you want in preparation, but you've still never tasted real Indian food.
You may think you know what a "hot day" is, but your sweltering hot summer days are like winter compared to India.
I ate food so spicy I thought I would never taste again.
I sweat so much I had to take two showers everyday, and I still went to bed with a thin layer of grime on my skin.
Something I never expected in a million years--or maybe I expected it but I never really thought about it, was how much I, a lighter skinned American female, would stick out in a sea of chocolaty brown people.

People would stop me on the street just to touch my arm, and compare colors.

I would turn around and catch people taking pictures of me.

Bizarre.
I have never gotten so much attention as I did in India. There was something so uncomfortable yet so lovely about it at the same time. Everyone at school knew our names, and wanted to be our friends, but it was similar to being a celebrity--they didn't really want to get to know us, they just wanted to say they'd met us. We were something to brag about.

Ultimately I think not knowing what to expect is what made India so special. I think it's what makes anything special.

Wouldn't you agree?

We did a little of everything in India. We broke all the rules. We were in a country where it so easy, why the fuck wouldn't we? There was a sweet satisfaction in knowing we could spend the whole day in a hookah lounge blackening our lungs then go straight to a school function and nobody had to know except us. It was like we were flipping the bird to our teachers with giant flashing signs and fireworks all around us, and they couldn't see us. It gave us such a buzz. It gave us a little pimp-limp in our step.

No going out after 8 o'clock? Yeah right.
No riding on motorcycles? Haha!
No drinking? No smoking? Woops.
No amorous conduct? Yeah about that...

The one regret I do have about the trip was that I didn't shoot almost any pictures, and the ones I do have are simply dreadful. I have a few that aren't too horrific to show, so I'll post them here, but they don't even begin to describe what Indian life is really like.

My hope is to someday return and attempt to do this country a little justice.

जीवन और प्यार 
-Lo

That's How It Starts. (We go back to your house)

That's how it starts.

Here I am sharing with you my thoughts and perceptions.

My reality. (Or at least some snippets) 

Let's start somewhere consequential...

Maybe not the beginning but way back in the day when my camera was still a novelty.

Back when I realized 'Shit, this is what I want to do with my LIFE.'

Yeah. Back to that moment.

I'd say that's consequential wouldn't you?

Thinking back on it, it's funny how far away that feels... When really it was a measly three years ago. Not even. I feel both incredibly old and so ridiculously green at the same time... It's a bit embarrassing actually.

Anyways, these are some shots from my trip to Peru back in 2009. I remember so well standing awkwardly in the Miami International Airport waiting to meet a bunch of random strangers from all over the country who would become my family--my support group and my best friends (if only for a little while).

Together we experienced Peru through every sensory organ. We hiked the Andes, got Typhoid and played ten fingers in a hot springs together. We ate a fucking Guinea Pig together. We worked through our insecurities, our homesickness--our discomfort of being in an entirely new country where nothing was familiar. We shared our perspectives and were challenged to look at life from new angles--through a different lens.

"What can I put in this little box?" Michael said waving his camera around as he lectured us on what makes a good photograph. "How can you tell a story in just 1/100th of a second?"

He told us we weren't allowed to take pictures of little kids. Or dogs. Or cats. Anything expected or generic. "If I have to look at another picture of a cute little kid posing in the street I swear..." He trailed off shaking his head, a cautionary look on his face. 'Mark my words,' it seemed to say threateningly.

Not that we listened.

In the end of course he was right: our best shots weren't of the cute stray dogs or the toddlers with sad, pleading eyes. They were of men and women working in the fields--they were of Macchu Picchu just as the sun came peaking up through the mountain tops.

They were of moments shared.

They were the pictures you could talk about for hours even if there weren't any particular stories that went along with them.

They were the shots you knew were absolutely perfect the second you hit the release button, or the ones you had no idea you had until you pulled them up on the computer later that night.

None of us were prepared for what we experienced in Peru, and none of us were ready to leave when it came time to part ways. We took away so much more than just a fresh body of work. We left Peru with a new understanding--a new appreciation, of a culture completely different from our own. We left with 15 new friends. We left with a new outlook on life. We left knowing what Guinea Pig tastes like.

So there you have it. A little taste of Peruvian life to chew on... My consequential moment.

Kawsay ima Khuyay.

-Lo