The Art of Lost Art
"The Art of Lost Art" is a heartfelt tribute to embracing flaws and finding beauty in the imperfect. It focuses on cherishing the journey of creation rather than fixating on flawless outcomes. Rooted in the wreckage of ruined film, this initiative delves into the intrinsic worth of artistic expressions, uncovering the hidden sparks of creativity and the profound wisdom in releasing control.
8 Wishes
Polaroid has a soft spot in my heart, and while there is an element of surprise with every slide, sometimes you get packs with duds. One of the upsides of shooting instant film is the intentionality behind every photo. So this dark slide creative prompt felt like a cruel lesson in accepting the uncontrollable. 8 wishes, 8 moments, 8 instances that were lost to the medium. Here is my collection of the missed opportunities and the magical, intimate stories behind them.
Our “stork dinner” and our bundled newborn the night after I gave birth. The hospital delivered a “gourmet” meal to our room and we celebrated with a bottle of Prosecco. Our girl was sleeping soundly next to us in her swaddle and bassinet.
A long-time muse and nomadic nymph. She stepped fearlessly into the fresh-water pond we discovered in the woods and she gingerly investigated the water sprites nestled between the tree branches.
A self-portrait from 10 years ago on a film stock that no longer exists. Faded, peeling, lifting. Either a clever metaphor for an old version of my ego or something far less poetic.
My husband holding our newborn baby on his bare chest, hours after she was born. Sleep-deprived and delirious. The light from the window tenderly highlighted their features. All I could feel was overwhelming love.
A family photo in front of our “first” Christmas tree, taken on a 52-year-old camera and film that expired 3 years ago. Our girl, big enough to crawl herself to the tree and reach for the ornaments, wiggled around but eventually sat for the picture like she knew the opportunity was fleeting.
Our girl at 5 months old, enjoying playtime. She smiled her adorable, toothless grin as I asked her if she liked her fishy or the sharky. Her hands smacked the table and her pacifier fell to the ground - a tribute for our dog waiting patiently for something to drop.
While exploring faerie houses in the wooded pond, a few clearings under the water shone bright orange by the spots of sunlight between the trees. The glittering silt lay still and fallen leaves slept peacefully in their warm underwater beds. We discovered something secret and something magical.
The celebration of a new start for a new mama. A year after she gave birth to her baby, she chose to switch gears in her career, jump back into her passion, and reclaim her creative identity.