As the year closes

Hello dear friend,

If you're reading this, it's probably safe to assume you're one of the very few people who put up with my terrible and infrequent updates. Sorry about that! I had a lot of dreams for 2015, but then again, didn't we all?

2014 was the year I low key quit photography. I recall writing about my angsty existential crisis a few entries ago (which is a sad indicator of how often I updated this erp!) but the quick sparknotes version is that photography had become something that brought me a lot of stress and sadness. It's one thing when other people don't believe in you, but it's pretty heartbreaking when you don't believe in you.

I was caught in a web of my own overthinking for months. On some forgotten date last winter break that I will always remember, I paced around my bathroom (where all brilliant life decisions are made, naturally) and decided that if I was going to fail, it would only be via confirmation. It's easier to give up rather than risk failing spectacularly, but if you don't try then you fail automatically. To reiterate a little sports cliché, you miss all the shots you don't take.

I pulled out my phone and spent over an hour typing a fb post asking my schoolmates if any models or make up artists wanted to collaborate with me on a creative project. I was terrified. And I didn't have a creative project in mind either. I was so scared that nobody would respond and my post would sink to the depths of the internet, ignored by all but a painful eternal reminder to myself that I couldn't get past the beginning hurdle. I was scared of being called out on being less than who I wanted to be.

Looking back, this was highly dramatic. I wish I could tell my past self to relax. I would tell past-me that even if nobody responds, there are still many other channels to try. But at the time I needed to know somebody believed in me enough to want to work with me. I refreshed the page incessantly. One notification. My friend commented and said I'd made a typo. God dammit.

Fast forwarding, the creative project I alluded to in my fb post saturated with insecurities ended up being the Fusia project. It may be a somewhat disjointed little photo series, but it gave the courage to keep expecting better from myself. Since then, I created a research based photo series over the summer in Shanghai. And from there, I obtained special permission to shoot in a private Florentine villa last semester. And from there, I've shot my first boudoir photoshoot yesterday.

This past year I have worked with many wonderful people to create photographs that encapsulate hours of hard work and represent immeasurable precious memories. It's not a happy ending, because I  am definitely happy but this is definitely not the ending.

Dear reader, I hope you had a meaningful 2015 and I wish you an even better 2016. Let your heart be the map and see where you may go.

Much love,
Nico

The Fusia Project: Vol. 3 Wedding Bells and Death's Tolls

The Never After

Last month I did a photoshoot at the 1933 Slaughterhouse. A few people asked how my shoots come together, and the answer is: they're always different! I always start with one inspiration point and build out from there. Sometimes that initial focal point is the model, but other times it can be a location, or even a prop.

This shoot in particular started with the location. I saw images of the 1933 slaughterhouse floating around, and thought it was straight from a grade A, 1984-esque, dystopian horror film. Side effect of being a slaughterhouse, I suppose. I immediately thought of a wedding (although I'm not sure what that says about my views on marriage) and the shoot built from there. 

Lots of photographers work in contrast or in parallel. An example of this would be shooting a high fashion editorial in a garbage dump (contrast), or working with a grunge-y themes in a garbage dump (parallel). Either way, the location brings out elements of the shoot.

I wanted to work in both contrast and parallel by creating a series that required a deeper level of cultural understanding in order to decode the full implications. I researched into American weddings and Chinese funerals so I could play off the overlapping features. In essence, I wanted to make images that could be interpreted by some as wedding photos, and others as funeral photos. 

The first thing I settled on was the dress. This would be the most important element, and carry the weight of the story. It needed to be recognizable as a wedding dress, and it needed to be white (the color of death in Chinese cultures). My past photoshoots relied heavily on already available resources. But as complexity of vision increased, it became clear I needed more preparation and would not be able to pull things off last minute. Posting on facebook, "Hey, does anybody have something that can pass off as a wedding dress that I can borrow tomorrow?" unsurprisingly has a low success rate.

The week before the scheduled date of the shoot, my model helped me order a wedding-passable dress on Taobao (Chinese equivalent of ebay/amazon). It was cheap, and unfortunately arrived reflecting its price. We got what we paid for, and it was a compete disaster. 

Time was ticking, and I decided to make the dress myself. I've previously made costumes and altered my clothing before, so this seemed doable . I followed a few tutorials online, and made a passable wedding dress.

  

I always argue that photos are completely subjective. The reality you see in a photograph can be completely misrepresentative. In this case, you are looking at half a dress. The dress I made has no back because I ran out of fabric, and is more similar to an apron than anything else. This became a problem because my initial model is conservative, and therefore was unable to wear it because it lacked coverage on the back and the arms.

So two days before the shoot, I changed models. And then I changed models again. I considered just pushing the shoot back another week, but I decided to proceed ahead as planned as sort of a rebellion against the multiple setbacks. The morning before the shoot, I picked up some yellow chrysanthemums (Chinese funeral flowers) and red ribbon.

My makeup artist, the lovely Claire Schapira who assisted in the first shoot, joined me in the morning along with Chen Qinrui (Cherry), the lovely model who agreed to work with me last minute. Cherry is a Chinese citizen, and she provided lots of feedback on the makeup. We went for something contemporary look that brides today may wear.

Cherry's Makeup

We arrived at the slaughterhouse, and looked for a quiet place we could shoot without interrupting people/have random people in the background. The space was massive, and we shot in variety of different locations. 

Shooting on site

A few hours in, a security guard noticed the shoot and ordered us to stop. Apparently there is a very firm ban on photographing white dresses in the slaughterhouse, although other colors are okay (this doesn't really make sense to me, but perhaps something was lost in translation). At that point, the shoot had effectively already finished, and we packed up and left. In the spirit of irony, an actual wedding was scheduled to take place in the slaughterhouse later that day.

Working in post, small tweaks were made to the colors to maintain the mood I wanted to capture.

Before/After

This was the most intricate shoot I'd done to date, and required the most pre-production work. While I was not able to work with the initial model I'd conceptualized, almost working with her still taught me a lot. I now will consider more factors that can influence participation. Point being: I collaborate with my classmates, and never want to push people wildly out of their comfort zones. It's not only a horrible thing to do as a person, but also is pointless. It's the realization that things I may be comfortable with, others might not be, and the nature of the shoot must be compatible with the model. 

I originally set out to do photoshoots every week, but now realize the lack of feasibility in that. Not only would it be completely exhaustive, but it would also foster a decline of quality. Things take time. Many of the photographers I greatly admire hand make a majority of their props/costumes, and this is a direction I intend to move towards as well. 

Inspirations for this shoot were:

Á la Victime by Alexia Sinclair

Forgotten Fairytales II by Zhang Jingna

The Fusia Project: Vol. 2 Take Me to Church

Planning for this shoot began early on, although logistics were not worked out until much later. After making an open collaboration call for models and makeup artists during the winter, Sarabi Nikolanna Eventide was one of the first people who messaged me who I immediately knew I wanted to work with.

I think Sarabi has a very unique face, but despite my great appreciation for her unconventional beauty, I had a great struggle when deciding how I would photograph her. I try to capture some sort of the model's unique personality in each image, and I brainstormed with her dominant characteristics in mind. Eventually, I decided to shoot Sarabi while wearing a headscarf, one of her defining visual characteristics.

I asked Sarabi to show me her scarf collection then selected this print to keep the Chinese theme consistent.

But from here, I was once again stuck. I knew I wanted to shoot Sarabi while she wore this scarf, but what else? Where would I shoot? Would I use any other props? Having never worn a headscarf myself, I asked Sarabi to send me a photo of how she normally wears it, in hopes of getting a clearer idea. She sent me this photo:

Between the draping of the scarf and her general pose, I immediately thought of a nun. This fledgling of a thought ended up being the springboard for the entire shoot. 

I began looking up old churches within Shanghai, thinking that the inclusion of Western religions into China would be a good story element. As black women are not normally used in religious depictions, I was even more determined to have Sarabi model for this shoot.

The morning of, the lovely Maggie Walsh applied makeup to Sarabi based on the image The Waiting from artist Zhang Jingna's Motherland Chronicles.

The Waiting

I wanted an emphasis on the eyeshadow and contouring, which the lovely makeup artist Maggie Walsh expertly executed.

Sarabi's makeup

We travelled to the Dong Jia Du (董家渡) Catholic Church, one of the earliest churches in Shanghai. As the Church is still in function, I did not want to shoot inside and disrupt the practitioners. Instead I focused on shooting outside using the Church as a backdrop.

When Sarabi stood in the middle of the road in front of the building, we began to face challenges with traffic. Cars, bikes, mopeds, and general pedestrians had no qualms about blatantly observing, which became problematic when their observations made Sarabi uncomfortable and people literally began to get into the shots. I politely asked people to leave, but learned the benefits of shooting in closed spaces.

Going in to the shoot, I had sketched a few distinct mental conceptions of images I wanted which helped make this shoot progress quickly. We tried a variety of different locations and poses, but ended after approximately an hour of shooting.

Working in post, I spent a significant time editing the Sarabi's headshot. It was my first time working on skin detailing that was so fine, and working with a black model. I wanted to make sure editing didn't literally whitewash her, and I also didn't want to wash out the texture.

Before/After

This was my first time working with a classmate who had no prior modeling, so I was initially nervous about my ability to constructively direct and critique a model. But looking at this second installment, I now feel a greater sense of stability and look forward of the images to come.

The Fusia Project: Vol. 1 Dilapidated Shikumens and a Distinctive Lack of Graffiti

A few weeks ago, I stumbled upon this article about street art paying homage to traditional Shanghainese culture. I was struck by the contrast between the bureaucratic modernization razing down the neighborhood and the quiet sense of nostalgia the art inspired. I immediately wanted to do a shoot incorporating it and knew it was only a matter of time before it was gone since the entire area itself was up for demolition.

In only a couple of days, I mapped out a shoot and drafted the help of Sophia Noël and Claire Schapira to model and do makeup, respectively. 

When mulling over the location and the essence of fading Chinese culture in the face of rampant modernization (which is often synonymous with Westernization) I began to think of traditional Chinese opera. My grandmother actually was a Chinese opera singer in her heyday, and I remember having a specific lack of appreciation for it when it woke me up early in the mornings. For tactfulness and appropriateness, the makeup was therefore going to be a contemporary spin-off of traditional Chinese Opera.

The morning of

When we got to the location, we had the great happiness of knowing we'd found the right place, but the great disappointment that the graffiti was already, for the most part, destroyed. Several areas had been ripped down or otherwise slathered over with white paint. 

On site

Even without having beautiful street art, the ambiance of the location was very usable and flexible and we shot a variety of different types of shots. 

Before/After

Nothing major was done in post, as the immense charisma of the area and Sophia carried through wonderfully.

I launched my personal artist page on Facebook afterwards, and consider this a wonderful start to a new project and new ambition.

The Fusia Project: Prelude

After coming to terms with my own excuses and insecurities, I made a somewhat official return to my photographic dream last week with the launch of my own facebook page. Over the past five years, my "photoshoots" have become increasingly complex and have miraculously metamorphosed into butterflies of personal growth, evident when comparing the first unfortunate shoot in my basement to my latest shoot at home.

Started from the bottom

And now we're here!

For a long time, improvement was very linear. I put in a little bit more effort and got pictures that were a little bit better. I took my camera everywhere and took pictures of everything. I had fallen in love with photography, and spent as much time with it as possible.

But like all true romances, the honeymoon eventually ended. I reached a point where I took better photos than most people, but still felt miles away from being professional. I hovered at the border between being a hobbyist and a "real photographer," unsure how to move forward yet terrified of a perceived certainty of failure. To not try and fail by circumstance seemed to be more gentle than to fail by proven inadequacy.

At the same time, I began to feel tired. I was tired of being the token photographer. I was tired of the expectations that come along with that. I was tired of feeling constantly unappreciated for all the time I spent going editing acne off faces or simply going to events. Somewhere, photography stopped being an something I enjoyed and became an insufferable burden.

I began to ask myself what I was shooting for and why I bothered improving. Was I spending hours on photoshop tutorials and lighting guides only to take great pictures of my kid's soccer game in 20 years?

This feeling gnawed at me and eventually I stopped taking photos all together. I was so scared of what could be and what couldn't be that it became easier to give up, to shut it all out.

For lack of better words, I gave up on myself.

When I went home for Winter Break, my dad bought me a new camera. He joked it was my birthday present for the next ten years, Christmas present, Valentine's Day present, engagement present, and wedding present all in one. Candidly, he admitted he was only making good on an old promise. He'd planned on getting me a new camera for awhile, but was waiting for it to be financially doable. The box was waiting for me the minute I got home, luggage still in tow. My parents were surprised when I didn't tear the box open, and I made excuses about being tired, about waiting for Christmas Day.

But I was frightened. How could I tell the people who believed in me that I didn't believe in me?

When I got my trusty starter SLR four years earlier, I'd locked myself in my room after opening it out of sheer excitement. This time, I opened the package with dread, unprepared to face the physical manifestation of my own disappointments.

I shot and edited my family's Christmas photos later that day, and the sense of control and familiarity tugged at my heart strings. I was doing something that I once deeply cared about, but had shut away. The feeling repeated post New Years, and eventually I conceded photography was still something I very much enjoyed doing.

I decided to restart, with the personal promise that everything would be different.

After releasing an open casting call to anybody interested in modeling or styling, I began to conceptualize more Chinese inspired creative shoots, and The fusion Asian project 'Fusia' was born.