memories are phantom limbs;

A friend recently asked why I do photography, and deep down, I have always known the answer.

I can't exactly remember when I first started playing around with a point-and-shoot camera, but I'm sure it was around first grade, when I was 10 years old.

I have no recollection of any film stocks I used at the time. Instead, I distinctly remember the smell of that one film lab near my house where I sent all my rolls for development. The store, with its white, sterile walls, was small, occupying a tiny space outside a supermarket. Inside, the air conditioning was far too powerful for the claustrophobic space. The walls were littered with various prints, probably accumulated over the years. As a child, I couldn’t stand the smell wafting from what may be the chems they were using; it stung my nose, and I clearly recall wanting to grab my negatives and leave immediately whenever I was there.

Little did I know I would find myself wishing I were in that same position far into the future.

Fast forward to today, and I do not believe my reasoning has changed; visiting my home back in Manila further reinforces that.

I distinctly recall telling my therapist something like:

I am thankful and blessed to realize that my experience of [this] is unique to me alone. No one, anywhere or anytime, will share an identical experience of this should they ever go through it.

The original context of that statement was for an entirely different topic, but I argue the sentiment remains the same.

Photographs are tangible, and the memories tied to them give them intrinsic value.

I have never held my work to such high regard (see entry from May 2026), but I can never downplay or disregard the memories tied to the photos I've taken, regardless of whether they see the light of day. I cannot deny, however, the growth and progression in my photos since I took up the hobby more than a year ago. I learn a lot through osmosis, and I am very lucky to be surrounded by talented photographers who have offered me a glimpse into their perspective and how they frame a scene.

It is safe to say that I deeply connect with the emotions captured in my photographs. I firmly believe there is always a subjective story behind every frame. This is the same reason I titled my first zine “an ongoing conversation”; a person’s understanding of a photo is always subjective, much like any work of art. Art can and should start a conversation, whether with yourself or someone else. Art is always in dialogue.

To answer the question I opened this entry with, I took up photography because of its ability to carry memory. Photos are tangible representations of moments frozen in time. I want to capture these fleeting moments, whether as a reminder for myself or for others.

Recognizing this, I understand every person has their own reasons for taking up photography. This may relate to their work, or they may use the images as reference for their own art. Either way, photography becomes a vehicle that aids creation beyond its initial state.

As selfish as this sounds, I wish to develop film at home (it is cost-efficient, and I will gladly take that benefit today). I think film chemicals are in a better place now and will not smell like that one lab I grew up with.

I never fully recognized that my relationship with photography began as a trivial thing. Learning that my father used to do photography during his high school years, and has a relatively good understanding of the hobby, shows me it has been in the family ever since. I am very glad my family participates in and shows interest in the work I do. Being able to publish a zine is a tangible reminder that I have more than enough material to create a collection of images—ones that I am very proud of.

Often, I have to pinch myself and remind myself that I can create; that I am a creative being. I need to put more faith in myself, knowing that I am worthy of being present in creative spaces, to be amongst creatives and recognize that my perception has its own worth.