Privately Public
Inspired by visiting artist Star Montana and Arielle Bob Willis, students were asked to reflect on and chronicle their day-to-day personal experiences and inner lives. They created personal narratives and expressive portraits using themselves or a model to express feeling, emotion and identity.
During this process, students kept a daily record of moments in their lives where they felt uninhibited freedom, hope, joy, loss, and discomfort. Their photographs were about looking into themselves and the world around them, and finding a way to express feeling, mood, and emotion through chronicling their everyday moments.
The Rose Garden
By Harper
Postcards from Midnight hit the box at two
Still with a hint of the sunset,
The clouds who left behind their tints of pink, orange and blue
The postman, unlucky with the night shift and fingertips stained by ink
Might never see the world and all its stories
With that filter’s shimmer of rose pink
He’ll never know that at twelve, life is just an allegory
That we save the moral for that first peak of light
As we sit on the damp sand where we’ve got an alibi to keep airtight
The water rolls up with the tide, hitting the toes of our shoes
The sky that’s bright and full won’t yet remind us of our blues
Tomorrow, we might see them in full
But on this morning, reminiscent of the hours before dawn
Life’s a perfect pink without a thought to dwell on
Light
By Upton
Artist statement coming soon…
Title Coming Soon
By Hannah
Artist statement coming soon…
One
By Henry
Artist statement coming soon…
Caged
By Sophia
i.
It’s a bruised Thursday afternoon / fog apostrophizing the November air / you whisper of stolen sonnets & second skins / your ash-coated eyes slits of caged time // you are a stranger inside yourself // are we born to live or to die?
ii.
Screaming of fireflies and freedom / you were once passionate / once satin-dressed and moss-blessed / once a dreamer / who dreamed of dreams / the gossamer tendrils of hope wrapped around your temples
To what american dream did you sell your body?
the night sky drizzles broken poetry / a dreamscape of grief // you cracked open the sky with your anger & clawed at the silver slit of the moon // you howled for fireflies and freedom / searching for the soft underbelly of the world / / but the american dream / does not / exist.
iii.
the widest gulf in the world is the distance between who you were and who you are.
iv.
But what’s it like, to even dream of dreams? / firefly tears smoke out / weaving / caged hope / into your ash-covered pillows // you’re God’s mirage / the ever-spiraling halo of corpse-flesh // a trap / full of skins & bones & cages.
v.
You sigh / ash-throated / the closest thing to / surrender.
Title Coming Soon
By Storie
Artist statement coming soon…
Title Coming Soon
By Connor
Artist statement coming soon…
Hold Me Like You’d Hold A Memory
By Francesca Varase-Riggens
When a woman is born, she carries within her all the eggs she will ever bear. My grandmother, my mother, and I are separated, across borders and in our connection to one another. I existed within my mother since the moment of her birth, just as she existed within hers from the second she was born. Yet, am I the daughter she imagined I would be? We have grown in different countries and cultures that have placed an unbreakable distance between us. I observe the division between my mother and her mother as well. My mother swore she would never become like her mother, yet their relationship mirrors the one we now share. My series, Hold Me Like You’d Hold a Memory, is my way of reckoning with the disconnect I feel from my culture and my lineage. The story is told through three perspectives, my grandmother’s, my mother’s, and my own. These are distinguished by the use of Spanish, excerpts of my grandmother’s poetry, and capitalization. I am speaking when the text is all lowercase.
I scarcely find belonging amongst any group of people. I could not be more of an alien for my Mexican family and friends, and the Hispanic community around me does not see me as one of their own. However, I have realized the spectrum of what it means to be of Latin origin in the United States. I sought to photograph different members of the community, from young girls in a traditional dance class to a tattooed goth woman at a music festival. These people could not diverge anymore from each other, yet, they find belonging in the fact that they stem from the same origins.
In my solitude, I never realized my mother longed to be close to me too. She calls for me to allow her to be a part of my life as I come of age, a wish I know many parents echo to their own children as well. Through the lens of my camera, I wish to document the intersection of culture, isolation, love, and loss, and how they are fundamental in our journey to understand one another.
Can We Just Sleep Until We’re Seventeen?
By Emy Spieker
As a photographer and musician, I’ve always aimed to capture the essence of being a young artist making and playing music. When I think about the “music community,” big names like Taylor Swift, Frank Ocean, and Kendrick Lamar come to mind. However, there’s a vibrant and dynamic scene among young musicians that often goes unnoticed. This is why I chose to photograph every aspect of my life as a young musician.
My journey began in fourth grade when I started playing the trumpet, continuing through middle school where I began learning jazz. Being the instrument I’ve played the longest, it is both challenging and rewarding, especially with the demands of soloing and improvisation, areas where I continually strive to get better at. While I may still be trying to improve my skills, I find inspiration in photographing those who excel and find empowerment in their performance. More recently, I formed a band called Cherry Amoia with two friends. Being in a band and creating music together has been the most exhilarating part of my musical journey. The bond we share through music is one I’ve never experienced; one that extends beyond our sessions. The music community has introduced me to many individuals, both young and old, who share a passion for music. On the other hand, I also find peace in creating music alone in my bedroom. Despite the limitations of making music in a small room I sleep in, I never fail to feel as though I have endless ideas for new songs for both myself and my band.
The medium I use for my photography is deliberate and reflective of what I’m shooting. Photos of my band and performing musicians are shot with a DSLR camera, while images of the crowd and behind-the-scenes moments are captured with a small, point-and-shoot Lumix camera, evoking a sense of youthful spontaneity. Together, these photos encapsulate my experience and emotions as a young musician within the music community.
Sheep in a Box
By Anju Higashi
“[The Little Prince] never explained anything to me. He thought, perhaps, that I was like himself. But I, alas, do not know how to see sheep through the walls of boxes. Perhaps I am a little like the grown-ups. I have had to grow old.”
- Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
Although the perspective of children is often overlooked, once we reflect back on our childhood, we realize the amount of possibility and joy that had overflowed in our youth. We find ourselves longing to experience youth again, but the moment flees from our grasp, as we are chained to the weight of reality. However, we are still able to find a comforting glow in our past memories. As someone who immigrated from Japan at 4 years old, I was exposed to a whole new culture and environment to get used to. On the other hand, my little brother is the only member of my family who was born in the United States. I imagine that he has had a completely different experience than I had growing up, and as I see him in his final years of elementary school, I find myself reflecting even more on the fleetingness of childhood, and the communities that I have been fortunate enough to be a part of. This is why I chose to photograph around youth, as it stands as a reminder of memories with my family, the Japanese community in Los Angeles, and especially, my little brother. I tried to capture subjects and moments that I thought were symbolic of growing up in LA with a Japanese background, in combination with playful scenes that remind me of youth. These are photos of memories where I found connection, grounding, and community in as I grew up, which still act as a source of comfort for me today.
Help Me Remember
By Maya Stillwell
Photography can be a way to connect with and document the past. Specifically, I want to use it to connect with my past. Within this series, I want to tell the story of my maternal grandmother and paternal grandfather and late grandmother, whose lives have impacted me in more ways than I could’ve imagined. But, also, I didn’t know very much about where they came from or who they were before I was born. This project plays on ideas of love, struggle, loss, and the forgetting and recollection of memory and heritage.
My maternal grandmother, Lien Nguyen, immigrated to the United States when she was 18 during the Vietnam War. She was able to escape by helicopter, arriving alone, with only ten dollars, and not speaking a word of English. Through photography, I recall moments from my grandmother’s childhood in Vietnam, her journey to escape, and the life she was able to build here in America where she started a family. My grandmother on my dad’s side, Liz Shapiro, passed away from cancer before I was born. I have heard many wonderful stories about her kindness, uniqueness, and care. During her lifetime, she touched hundreds of lives and it is well known that to know her was to love her. Sadly, I never got to meet her and these photos are a way for me to connect with her story, her struggles, and her beautiful spirit that I wish I could’ve known. My grandfather, Al Shapiro, married my grandmother after my dad was born. They met while trying to change the shape of school systems around them, believing that better teachers and facilities were needed for a proper education. By creating the Neighborhood School Planning Corporation, they were able to establish a whole new school from the ground up, which is now Chatsworth Academy. While my grandfather isn’t biologically related, he was in my dad’s life since he was a kid and mine since I was as well. He was in an army reserve unit during the Vietnam War. The house my grandparents raised their kids in was full of love, life, and the door was always open to anyone and everyone. This has translated into my grandfather's house since I was a kid, where my cousins and I were always playing and felt safe.
Many of the photos and mementos from my grandparents’ pasts are one of a kind and once they are lost or forgotten, they are gone forever. Using a mixture of archival photos, important keepsakes, and portraiture, I wanted to capture these memories of my family so that they won't ever be fully gone and their struggles and lives won’t go unappreciated.
Oftentimes, people don’t know much about their heritage or ancestors. I didn’t know much about mine besides their life now, their name, and an occasional anecdote. With the inevitable movement of life and death, it was important to me that I hear my grandparents’ stories and capture parts of their lives that would otherwise be forgotten. Ultimately, almost everyone will be forgotten with time, however I hope with these photos combined with quotes and accounts from these people, I am able to extend their memory, even if it is just by a little bit.
Generational Women
By Samaya Sayana-Manchanda
Generational Women, focuses on the generations of women in my life. It highlights my experience as an Indian-American woman and features primarily my mom, but also my grandmothers, Amama and Bebe, my great-aunt, Peddamma and one of my aunts, Preeti Peddamma. These women and others have been the foundation of my life. Through my lens, I’ve been able to observe their relationships with one another and with me. In the context of “traditional” Hindu culture, women don’t often receive the recognition they deserve. I wanted to showcase their strength as someone who knows firsthand what they have sacrificed.
My amama, our family matriarch, has paved a path for my mom and her three sisters to build their own lives. As she immigrated here from India and has worked quite hard to be where they are now. Amama has taught me about spirituality, giving me the skills, like chanting, to help with my previous anxiety. Her guidance played an important role in reducing my anxiety as a child to now. When I photograph her, it is an opening to connect with her as well as the spiritual realm. These women have all given me a grasp of the importance of family. For example, one of the images featuring my grandmother and her sister, has a deep connection and importance of family shown. My peddamma, is in the later stages of dementia and is now limited to her first language, Telugu. Communication with her has become a challenge as I do not speak Telugu and she often forgets exactly who I am. Yet, she still recognizes me visually because I resemble my mother. At this moment, she is observing me, ignoring my other relatives in her presence, as I am observing her with my camera. I feel a strong obligation towards my elders and a deep longing for connection with them. Through photographing them, I have found a way to connect with her when I normally can’t.
Photography expresses my connection to the generations of women in my family, both underlying and upfront. Often in my family, emotions are not always discussed deeply. Photography creates the chance to connect deeper in another way. I chose to shoot in black in white to emphasize my subjects and their emotions, by removing the color, the focus is on the subject and the story being told. As the photographer, I want my subject to feel comfortable allowing them to be vulnerable. When shooting my family, I get to view them from a different perspective. Behind the camera, I can become an observer, looking at my family as they look back, allowing me to capture their genuine selves.
