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I sit by the window, running my fingers through my hair. Getting to the ends, I hold them up to examine them. There is a golden afternoon light coming through the window. This is the magic time of day when every strand is illuminated. I sift through these tiny fissures, noticing where the breakdown starts. They are the result of wear and weakness, but sprout like tiny seedlings. Commonly seen as imperfections, I look at them with admiration. After finding the perfect split end, I hold the strand and rip it out of my scalp. I get my camera and set it on the tripod. Knowing the split will only be visible if lit from behind, I hold it in front of a frosted light box. This set up creates a silhouetted version of my hand. I take all the steps to get the right focus and exposure. I place the film holder in the camera and pull out the dark slide. Then comes the element of chance; the part that makes shooting film magical. Between the subject and the film’s emulsion are the various mechanisms that dictate what is actually captured. I relinquish control and hit the shutter hoping that all my planning comes to fruition but I won’t know till the film is developed. This suspense fills me with optimism and anxiety.
- Fine arts