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.