Free write November 19th 2014.

Sometimes I wonder what it is I truly desire to see as a photographer.
Do I shoot because I can or do I shoot because it is truly my passion?
I think I am more intrigued by the creation process than I am the finished product.
I am told I have an eye, but for some reason I cannot pinpoint my very own style.
I find myself focused on the technical aspects so much now I have lost sight of how glorious the human body truly is. The small hairs that grows so subtly out of every single pore spread across our delicate skin.
Composition, lighting, color.
What about me the meaning behind the image?
The intensity I breath should be felt in every image.
Why do I create?
Apparently to express my feelings.
But why do my feelings feel so lackluster?
Seems like only words can truly paint a picture of my devine being.

I think my images display my deepest insecurities.
I come alive through those I capture.
I have no flaws when I am shooting because through my eyes they are perfect.
I guess that’s why I often love the images they don’t particularly care for.
I appreciate the raw.
Maybe because I live my life in its most rawest form.
Unpainted nails and toes most men would snarl at.
Dirty sneakers and uncombed hair with my truest face always revealed to the world.


May First.

Messages Image(1985804696)

Zoey Ka$h shot by me. Continuation of depression series.

It’s been 31 days since I’ve been back living in New York. My emotions have only been reaching extremes since my feet touched the concrete. Seasons are ending, new relationships are forming. With every loss a new¬†opportunity¬†presents itself. I have no idea what God has in store for me. Sometimes I feel as though I am blindly walking down my path, following a small amount of light ahead. Fear is quietly dormant. Fear not stemmed from being directed off of my path, but fear I will never reach the light.

The Introduction.

Growing up I suffered from extremely low self esteem. I could burst out into tears with the snap of a finger caused by the simplest things. At the age of 9 I had began cutting and contemplated suicide daily. By the age of 11 I was able to sleep for 12-16 hours at a time, go days without eating full meals, and confine myself to my household for weeks at a time. I had previous knowledge of women in my family who dealt with depression at an early age but I never figured depression to be “hereditary”. Depression is not something that most people wear on their sleeve, but I don’t want to allow it to hold me back any longer. Everyone’s dealings with depression varies on levels than most can only imagine, but within this series I will display mine. I wish I could tell you guys how long this series will last or how many shoots it will consist of but to be honest, I am not sure and I don’t think restrictions should have any place here. Enjoy.

All shot and styled by @TeeShotMe

Part 1. Sometimes I feel as though I walk naked in darkness searching for the light.

Model: Marti Ragan @AmerykahsMisfit

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