KENZIE KATE

Category: personal

  • 2017 in color

    this morning, i woke up in my bed for the first time in a few weeks. i’ve lived in a house that i adore for close to three years now, and i feel like i am reaching a point in my life where things are settled and a bit rooted. that, alongside cooking for others more, was one of my goals this year. i walked around, taking mental notes of what needs to be put away, washed, de-tinseled and decided to open an envelope my sweet mom had sent me in the mail. inside was a flash-drive containing years of my great-grandfather’s photos she had meticulously scanned, archived, and sent to various family members across the country. (she and i share the same fear of house fires). i’ve poured through my papa’s photos for as long as i can remember (as a matter of fact, i had just seen all of them most recently over thanksgiving) but i still sat on the couch and scrolled through them for hours.

    i opened a word document, i tried writing a summation of this year, my annual search for some sort of lesson or wisdom i’m walking away with. i did a load of laundry, went on a walk, made soup, listened to my favorite songs from the year, trying to make myself feel something. i scrolled through previous years’ summations. i kept coming back to my papa’s photos.

    all of these were taken many years before my mom was born. the little girl in the photos is my mom’s mom.
    i knew and adored my great-grandparents until they both passed a few years ago, but i feel like i am still learning about them through these photos. his love is so palpable and he achieved exactly what i am striving for: creating imagery that would be passed down to great-grandchildren and give them a sense of their love and eye-twinkles; teensy snippets of their honest, simple lives.
    the world feels so noisy now. imagery feels so noisy, so manufactured, so complicated. i don’t have any wisdom from this year, only blurred images held in my mind and the ones i shared below, alongside a hope that as we move forward we will focus more on what is true and what will both disappear quickly and last forever.

    2010 / 2011 / 2012 / 2013 / 2014 / 2015 / 2016 / 2017:

    the year i had words from my favorite poet tattooed on my arm. the year i embodied those words. the year i shakily posted this, as i sat on my favorite yellow couch surrounded by my best friends. the year i opened my colorful world more fully to others. the year i cried in a little greenhouse in santa barbara, in a tiny theater in manhattan, surrounded by a sunset on a short november saturday, and at a wedding reception as i scrolled through charlottesville updates. the year i was by myself more than any other time in my life, but rarely felt alone. the year we finally went to japan and it was more perfect than we ever imagined. the year my dad moved to san jose and my brother to amsterdam. the year i learned how to contact my representatives. the year i stood in two lifelong friend’s weddings. the year i marched alongside 750,000 others on the streets in my city. the year i traveled confidently alone through seattle, portland, denver, chicago, baltimore, vermont, arizona, new york, and the year i had panic attacks in the car, at a show, during an argument, in my backard. the year the neighbor’s dog died and our avocado tree didn’t bear any edible fruit. the year i turned a much anticipated 24 years old. the year we threw a 70s cult party and i stayed at the madonna inn twice. the year i lost a few old friends and tried to judge less. the year i got to witness 32 weddings, document all but one, and was humbled by each. the year i learned both how to cook for 20 people and of the ways that i still need to learn to let go. the year that began with me omitting my love’s name/photos/existence from conversations in my hometown and ended with me holding her hand in church a few weeks ago. a year of healing, a year of hard moments birthing something better, another year of political agony, the year of moving forward, the year of trying to appreciate what was around me, knowing that time is fleeting on this pale blue dot.

    some photos i hope will last beyond all of this:

    thank you all, for everything!!!

  • 2016 in Review

    2010

    2011

    2012

    2013

    2014

    2015

    2016. 

    All that I could say about this year on a macro level has already been said in every other status and meme on the internet. This was a hard year on our world. Of course, there are deaths and tragedies and fascists and poverty and prejudice and apathy in every other year of our history–and it will certainly continue in the years to come. I am hoping that the events of 2016 will galvanize each of us and move us out of our own echo-chambers and our apathy and into the shoes and pain of our neighbors. If this year has taught us anything, it is to show us that we cannot offer social media prayers, look the other way, and expect someone else to fix things for us.

    I photographed 27 weddings this year, starting in April for a multiple-day celebration on the coast of Mexico, and ending two days ago at an elopement in front of a waterfall on a sunny Thursday afternoon. It was my 7th year of business. It was my first year working as a full-time photographer, zero-time student. I saw the Grand Canyon for the first time, listened to a lot of political podcasts, spent a week in New York for my birthday, got my fifth tattoo and strep throat five times. I started eating meat again, traveled less so that I could build more community and ties here in Los Angeles, took more photos of myself, and threw a lot of parties. Two of my favorite couples got engaged, I paid a lot of rent and I went on more walks. I spent too much time in front of a screen and didn’t read as much as i would have liked. I worked more than ever, felt more fully, and cried less.

    Writing these yearly posts are the one thing that I have discipline for. Looking over the past few years, the insecurity and conflict i felt within myself is painfully evident. My immediate circles are filled with incredible people who work in activism and education and public service–the important things that make our world go round and the things I like to think i would be doing if I ever had a different career. I have spent 7 years justifying to others (but mainly to myself) why it is “okay” to be a photographer. As I sit here, on the last day of 2016, I feel so much less of that conflict. I’m proud of myself, my relationships, my art, the way that I see the world, and I’m excited to press more into those things in the days to come.

    Last year I wrote that I didn’t know how to be honest or brave. If I could sum up what I have done this year, it would be that I have stepped closer towards balance, bravery, and honesty. Early this year, one of my dearest friends gave me a tiny Giving Keys necklace engraved with the word “courage” and reminded me that I can do hard things. I wore it for months, I did hard things that i never thought I would be able to do, and kept it until I proved to myself that I was brave. I have carried the sentiment this entire year. We can do hard things because we have done hard things before. And because others believe that we can, even when we aren’t so sure of it ourselves.

    “Hard” manifests itself in different ways and in different seasons, and I walk into the new year knowing fully that it will offer it’s own, entirely new manifestations of hard.

    This year, my “hard” looked like initiating painful conversations and opening myself to grace and acceptance. As somebody who hates relying on others, it looked like speaking up when I needed help or care or advice. As a self-doubter, it looked like walking confidently in myself and my role and caring less about pleasing everyone around me. As someone who is always waiting for the other shoe to drop, hard looked working towards balance and contentment. As a naturally non-confrontational person, hard looked like continuing to speak out and maintain strong opinions. As a natural cynic, it looked like saying yes to love and to celebration even when it felt like the world around us was crumbling.

    These are the things that defined my year, and these are the things that I see in the photographs I have taken. I remember precisely who I was in every photograph I have taken, which is a large reason of why it never ceases to humble me to be trusted. Bits of me, bits of you. some of my pain and confusion, some of your joyous days. and vice versa. A little bit hard, a little bit easy. All of it, each of us, mixed together. This is what has changed me this year, and this is what I will carry with me forward.

    thank you, thank you, thank you. happy new year!

  • 11.12.16. los angeles, CA