Love has thrown me into an ocean, where I cannot touch its depth nor rest my head on its chest. Not until I am able to hold its waves with my bare hands. And that’s impossible. Love play games like that.
I have only one wish, to rest my head and stay that way. Unmoved by the aftershock of love- of being so intensely and wholly in love, yet losing it all when it is over.
I think I am the kind of person who can often appreciate the imperfection in life. Well, I am quite easy to get upset. But then I always try to “look at the bright side”.
When shooting the impossible film, there are often some unexpected results. Sometimes part of the picture doesn’t get developed. Sometimes the colors are just weird. But I also think that’s something special and “organic” about it. The imperfection, the unexpected, the quirk.
The imperfection is part of the work. It’s the result of the process. It’s unique to the work. To get rid of the imperfection is to create another piece. But I bet the new piece will probably have a different imperfection.
Lucky for me, I often like the weird patch on my pictures.