Chile & Bolivia
2016-17
The novel, jarring nature of living in a different country—alongside the near-holiness of a well-phrased Instagram caption—fueled my exploration of putting thoughts onto paper. The words were mostly journal entries at this point (some of which are transmuted below), and although I still didn’t understand why shooting in RAW format was so important, the power of a well-told story began to make itself known in my life.
These months made me feel brave enough to think of myself as a photographer, rather than someone who takes pictures (an important distinction for my psyche). Additionally, this was the first time someone had asked me to write or speak on their behalf, and I wrote a number of blog posts for various organizations and did a few social media takeovers. Photography was giving me a podium, and I was finding my voice.
“A Nod to Santiago”
Journal Entry | September 20, 2016
This is my saying "here's to you, kid." This is an ode to the communities that the city fosters. To the retired folks who sit under the endless canopy of young leaves on crisp jacket-weather afternoons. To the sleepy-eyed teens who come sit in the parks to listen to jazz swing bands and drink cheap wine. To the families who lounge on blankets and laugh at the circle of 20-somethings getting stoned before they head up to the dance floor. I'm such a fan of the dancing down here. It builds community and inspires confidence and breaks barriers and leaves everyone beaming and out of breath and full of life. And that's the way I want to live; just like that.
“The Sublime & Pichilemu”
Journal Entry | October 28, 2016
I'm sitting in the surf shack 20 meters away from tonight's hostel, nestled on a hill walking distance from Punta de Lobos--surf capital of South America. The crash of perfectly barreled waves melds with the chatter of the fire in the mud oven, and the deep orange and purple rays of sunset brush past the smoky curls peeling off of the fire. Over the fire crackling and the waves crashing, Gregory Alan Isakov spills out of a speaker hiding in the corner of the bungalow and into each crevice of the shack. I've got no obligations, and the only plan for tomorrow is that there isn't one. Life happens fast in the whirlwind of adventure, but there are special moments when everything slows and each detail finally has the time to be appropriately appreciated--right now it has slowed, and my God is it good.
“Salt of the Earth, Salar de Uyuni”
Journal Entry | Nov 20, 2016
I've taken a ton of pictures this past week: some of my favorite stuff I've ever been behind the camera for. Pictures of sunsets and sand dunes, salt flats and smiling tourists. I also took this picture [edit: referencing the picture immediately above and to the right of this post]. Of Louis in his father’s shop. And you know what? It's my favorite out of all 507. I think it's because Louis and the other Bolivians I had the honor of meeting while hitting all the tourist spots in Salar de Uyuni were the ones who impacted the most on the trip. Was the sunrise over the salt flats beautiful? Absolutely. Did the untouched stars take my breath away? You bet they did--well, that and being at 16000 feet. But the people-- the PEOPLE. They were the ones who gave the trip its indescribable vibe, the ones who changed my perspective, the ones who made me grateful for what I have and who sparked a compassion inside me that I haven't felt before. The little kids peeking out from behind their parents’ legs and asking me to take their pictures. The lone shepherds with their flocks of llamas, alpacas, vicuñas trekking through barren valleys. That's what this trip was for me. The people and the culture and the atmosphere of the Bolivian Altiplano, with some of the most incredible views sprinkled in there too. This is the flow to go with.
