I come from a family that loves telling stories. Countless hours were spent sitting at the dining table, my cousins, brother, and I leaned in listening to stories my aunts, uncles, or parents would tell us. Stories about our grandmother, ghosts, relatives back in the Philippines, or of their earlier years. Looking back they seem to be romanticized views of the past, who knows what was actually real and what wasn't, I'm sure the teller would feel just the same. I mean, was there really a hunchback that lived down the street from my aunt's house that chased them around as kids? Did my grandmother really drop everything and move to Egypt because she found out my grandfather was having an affair? I actually do believe the part about my mom and her sisters dancing up next to the DJ at discos in their college years. That's the funny thing about stories, true or not, eventually they get told to the point of truth, weaving itself through the fabric of our realities.
Nonetheless, they serve as my origins and have created the foundation of my identity. Not only the stories, but the act of storytelling and sharing my family and ancestors enjoy. If there's anything I learned studying sociology in university, it was that storytelling is extremely important. They create and have created our schemas of the world. For centuries storytelling has worked (well, and is still today working) as a tool to create and destroy truths, resulting in the systems and cultures of power and oppression. All politics aside however, it's no wonder why I've grown to love storytelling.
I've journaled for as long a I can remember. A diary was something I've had as soon as I was able to write. Many of of them are lost, but many filled books are stored somewhere in my basement and still get lugged around with every move. There are also plenty of embarrassing online journals floating around the interwebs somewhere since whenever I started using the internet for sharing.
Storytelling is why I began taking photographs in the first place, it was a way I could be present and record my life and the lives around me. Now having RUE, it has become the fuel for my core inspiration. A way to create a world outside of me, of my dreams. Full of flowers and feelings of nostalgia, inspired by the old world and nature. Mostly fabricated, but still authentic to me.
If you read my diary, you must know that I'm going on a long trip by now. Well, if you enjoy reading my diary, I actually started a travel journal. It's going to be written in the form of letters to a friend of mine named Sophia. The link to that is www.letterstosophia.us. There's only one post so far, but I leave in a week, so it'll all begin very soon!