Reflections on Photography and Relationships: A Journey of Thought and Intention

As I move into my new space, I am updating my website and refining my online presence. This shift feels like a new beginning, though only time will determine its real impact. While going through my camera box, I pulled out my film and digital cameras, discovering equipment that I no longer use. Out of three digital cameras, only one sees regular use. Part of me wants to keep the others as mementos, but they merely occupy space. Since relocating, I’ve entered a phase of decluttering. At first, letting go was difficult, but once I began, I realized, “This needs to go.”

My film cameras, however, present a different challenge. I struggle to let them go. There’s something timeless and deeply resonant about analog photography. In contrast, digital photography often feels fleeting, leaving me with a sense of emptiness.

This difference reflects my perspective on relationships. Are they as temporary as digital photography—easy to adjust, quick to discard, and efficient but ultimately unsatisfying? Or are they like film photography—intentional, challenging, and deeply significant?

Digital photography offers convenience but sometimes sacrifices depth. The ability to take thousands of pictures effortlessly seems liberating, yet it can feel detached. With so many options, images often blur together. Each photo is quickly taken, reviewed on a screen, and discarded if it doesn’t meet my standards. The ease of editing or deleting contributes to their disposability. This process mirrors superficial connections—always editable, always temporary.

I often find myself endlessly refining digital images—adjusting lighting, retouching imperfections, scrolling through filters. The art feels perpetually unfinished, leaving me unfulfilled. This rush strips away significance, much like relationships that lack commitment or deeper engagement.

In contrast, my film camera embodies permanence and care. Each shutter click is intentional and thoughtful. Film photography compels me to slow down, consider every frame, and trust the process. Without instant previews, I am present, mindful of each moment I capture.

This is how I aspire to approach relationships—with the same thoughtfulness and care. Like film photography, meaningful relationships require patience, vulnerability, and acceptance of imperfections. They demand time and effort, but the results are lasting and profound.

The grain, texture, and flaws in film are not shortcomings; they are what make the image unique. Similarly, authentic relationships are enriched through shared experiences, even when they are messy or imperfect. The process of developing photographs parallels how relationships deepen over time through attention and effort.

Film photography grounds me as an artist, providing a sense of permanence and connection that digital cannot replicate. It reminds me of the importance of being deliberate and present, both in my work and in my interactions with others. This reflection has prompted me to consider the type of relationships I want in my life: fast and easy, or thoughtful and worth preserving?

Just as I choose film to create something enduring, I aim to cultivate relationships that feel intentional and lasting—where every moment is meaningful and every flaw adds depth.