Justin Tinker - 3/14/2023
In my favorite photo from college, I am standing alongside three friends, arms draped across our shoulders, dripping with that odd combination of euphoria and hysteria that comes from having survived our first attempt at surfing. When I look at the photo, I feel almost invincible, not because we survived the frigid pacific water -- but because I somehow forgot to ask for my phone back. And by some divine luck or faith, the stranger who took our photo was the only other person in Santa Cruz absent-minded enough to offer us cookies when we came to his house to retrieve the phone.
Last weekend, when I emailed to let her know that my camera & the laptop containing the original shots for this project were stolen in a mass break-in, our photography lab manager wrote me back condolences for the objects - but even more for the loss of trust. Over the past week, her words have lingered in my mind: as I’ve had to convince a bouncer the grainy photo of my missing ID wasn’t fake, when i briefly considered locking my bedroom door for the first time, and when I found myself wondering if a second shoot in the city was worth the energy.
In this second iteration, I wanted to focus on all of those invisible things we carry with us: trust, memory, burdens, expectations, plans, hopes, commitments, responsibilities. Those we choose to release, those we fight to hold on to. This work is a product of conversations, past and present, observations, and personal reflection. It is meant to be archival, memorial, and at times, encouraging. These are things we carry.
(One set of 6 images. One set of 4 images. Tap/click to see the full photos)
