<3 on We Heart It. http://weheartit.com/entry/46482426/via/Sissy1256
Each photo is 12 minutes apart, assembled with no measurements in place (obviously) with Photoshop. No exposure adjustments or color compensations.
A couple years back when I was still in high school, I had received a letter saying that I was recommended by someone to do pageantry. I was completely flattered by this and told my parents over dinner that I got a letter to go to the informational session and interview. They hadn’t seen this coming at all. Not even a mile away. Not at all. For one, it was something I’d never shown the slightest interest in - or at least, not that they had heard of. And also, because of the fact that “I wasn’t model/pageantry material.” My mom was the first to shoot me down - calling me not short, not fat, but stout altogether, joking with my siblings right then and there. I hadn’t seen this coming. Hadn’t had the slightest inkling because I had been so excited to just tell my parents about the letter. It hurt. I looked to my dad for support but he kept eating and didn’t say anything. But I knew I couldn’t count on him to support me either because he was suppressing his smiles, seeing that I was unhappy with the way everyone else reacted. As I sat there with my lost appetite and crushed feelings, my dad said that I should go to the interview if I really wanted to, with my mom chiming in about how a person with my height wouldn’t stand a chance against other contestants. Deep down, I knew the words my mom spoke were true - that in reality, the modeling industry only accepts tall, thin girls. Even Paul Fisher directly stated this as I was watching Re-Modeled. In the end, I didn’t go.
About a year ago, I was approached by a man at the bus stop, who was on his way home from school like me after developing his photos. It turns out he was a photographer and asked me if I was interested in becoming a model. Of course, I was very skeptical of this because he was a complete stranger and didn’t even have his business card to give me. So I declined. Later on that evening after I got home, I had blogged about the man and my interest in modeling. Unexpectedly, a friend of mine commented on my post, encouraging me to go into it. Up until that day, I never had anyone support me in any way about my interest in modeling let alone realized that someone actually read up on my college blogs. To that friend, thank you.
While I also had other friends saying that I was such a model in my pictures, I had other friends call me a camera whore. Or both. It discouraged me from wanting to take pictures of myself. I then started to become conscious of the photos I took every time I held a camera in my hands. There was a point when I stopped taking lots of pictures of myself, taking them with at least another person and pointing the lens at other people and the things around me. It made me realize how much I enjoyed being on the other side of the camera lens too. But there had been no need for me to feel so self-conscious about my selcas (“self-camera”) - after all, I had been interested in modeling once upon a time. Recently, as I looked through my photos, I felt the urge to camera whore. And I’m glad I did. Because in doing so, it replanted the seed of modeling somewhere in the garden of my dreams.
What can I say? I like what I like!
Photo Creds to Brian Figueroa!
This was for his photo class project. I think it was for people and their collections? Not sure to be exact. But it was a fun shoot!
San Diego Avenue & California Street intersection in Downtown, San Diego.
unsorted (by tinydoll)