Today, Facebook reminded me of a post from a student’s commencement speech back in 2014.
It came a few years after a heartbreak caused by family circumstances, which also led me to withdraw from an international workshop I was supposed to attend in Cambodia. The post went like this:
“Find something to be obsessed with, and then obsess over it. Don't compete; find what's uniquely yours. Do your pictures—don’t try and do somebody else’s pictures. Don’t get lost inside your head, and don’t worry what camera you’re using.”
I reposted it at the time as a reminder that even though I didn’t get to go or learn there, I could still learn from anywhere. But it seems that heartbreak lingered longer than I thought. I ended up moving back to the capital, working a 9-to-5 job, and gradually, that obsession started to fade—buried under daily routines and the weight of unresolved grief.
So, where am I now? Well… pretty much still here. My days are filled with mundane tasks working to fund my life and my art. But even now, that art still carries the hashtag #on_going_project. It’s been 11 years.
Sometimes, I feel like taking photos just isn't the same anymore. The spark I used to feel when capturing a moment—it’s gone. I feel like I’ve lost my mojo. The way I see the world has shifted, too. I used to notice all the tiny details around me; now, my awareness is focused on my child—and all the little dangers that might come her way.
I'm wondering…Will that passion, that fire, that energy I once poured into my photography ever come back? I'm trying. And I’m hoping that desire and drive will find their way back to me.
