At the risk of sounding overly dramatic, I feel like a part of me died out in SE Asia.
But in a good way.
It wasn’t until prolonged travel that I finally had the quiet space and time to realize how I’ve been holding on to a certain identity I felt I had to cling onto for the past ten years of my life.
For those of you who don’t know, I want to be a photographer, but not just any photographer, I want to be cool. I want to have a stark style that people can recognize from a mile away. From my time in the industry, the established photographers always seemed to have a sort of enigma that if done correctly, could outlive them even after they were gone.
Irving Penn, Mary Ellen Mark, and Peter Lindbergh, just to name a few.
I want that.
At least, I wanted that.
But here’s the problem, it can be very limiting to hold yourself to the confines of just one version of you.
Really? Do you really want to just be that guy that wears all black and takes stark black and white photos?
Do you really need to be that “cool”?
Is that necessary? Or could you maybe just let it all go, be yourself, and let the pieces fall where they may?
I think I can.
To be honest, I don’t think I have much else of a choice.
Identity is a tricky thing if you are trying to craft one in an industry whose sole purpose is to make money.
"You need to brand yourself," they say.
"People need to know what you do in two seconds or less."
"If you’re everywhere you’re nowhere."
So we limit ourselves, for monetary purposes.
It works.
Our lives are too complicated to process all the incoming information the world has to offer. So we do what we do best, simplify. We simplify people down to one thing. We do this out of necessity, even if it’s not true or accurate. Even if it’s ourselves.
We think of Michael Jordan as the basketball player, not the father, not the cigar enthusiast, not the son who had to struggle with the untimely death of his father. He’s the basketball player.
I wanted to think of myself as the raw, stark, black and white photographer. I think I’d like that. It strokes my ego. I’d love to be acknowledged for that. But I’m also the quirky Asian-American kid who likes taking care of my plants. I like cracking jokes. I’m a huge fan of comedy, improv acting, and music. Occasionally, I’ll indulge in coffee. Oh, and I like to travel and write, obviously.
What about all those things? At what point is it not worth it to simplify yourself into a limiting identity for the sake of profits, or even worse, ego?
At the end of the day, we are everything. I am everything. From my birth, to my hopes and dreams, to the heartbreaks, the quirky little hobbies, career aspirations, and everything else in between. Where do we draw the line? When is it no longer worth trying to craft an image? Particularly if it’s simply not working?
Rejection.
This might sound contradictory, but rejection can be freeing.
The best example I can think of that relates most to this topic is when you’re lovestruck.
You’ve just met the hottest girl in the world. You’re so enamored with her, you bend over backwards trying to craft yourself into becoming the best version of yourself to get the girl. But despite all your efforts, she still rejects you. Sure, it will suck for a couple of days, maybe even weeks, but afterwards, you are also free. Why? Because now you have no choice but to be yourself. There’s no more need to put up a facade when that facade clearly isn’t working.
My attempts to craft myself into a singular image failed. It has, in fact, failed multiple times.
Barely Evolved Apes, and I Think I'm Just Lonely, just to name a few.
So then what?
After the initial sulking period, I woke up and realized, "Cool, I don’t have to contort myself anymore. I can just be. Who am I? I just am. I’m not my name. I’m not my job. I’m not my projects. I just am."
A part of me died in SE Asia. All these identities I’ve crafted for myself. Gone. All these concepts of who I should be in order to be better, to get forward in life, and to generate income. Failed. Heartbreak sucks, but it’s freeing. I now feel a level of lightness I’ve never felt before.
I’m no longer holding my breath.
And with this metaphoric death, I feel a new space has opened up in my life.
One that just is. For me to just be.
by Jason Lam