2023, Never too late
Happy Solstice, friends.
I’ve been thinking of writing this newsletter for years, so finally coming to it and still being unsure of how it’ll come together is uncomfortable. I had no name for this space whenever my mind wandered back to this unfinished to-do item, but one morning I woke up to my little Theo climbing over me while calling “mommy-ya!” and I thought of the Mamiya 645 that’s helped me fall in love with film (and the tag I’ve been using for years!) and it felt right.
The theme of this issue is “never too late,” which, as a Filipino, is always true because you can come to the party hours late and still be welcome, still be greeted with a “have you eaten yet?” while already being led toward the buffet before you’ve answered. I can feel the uneven weight of pancit and rice on a paper plate as I write this.
In the coming months I hope this will be a space to share tiny dispatches from whatever is going on in my life, professionally and personally. Sometimes postcards and letters from the road, sometimes roundups of new and old work, most likely scenes from home and this (mommy-ya/mamiya) era of great exhaustion and great delight.
I’m looking back on the year and know it was a best and hardest. My slowest work-wise, to be sure, which is something I’ve heard from colleagues and creatives everywhere (check in on your artist friends!!) But maybe also the sweetest, because for the first time in my life I’ve used a planner all the way through—every day writing a line or memory about Theo.
And while I’ve always felt pressure for my “Year in Pictures” to show work that feels portfolio worthy, this year I just want to show you anything. Proof that I made it work, made something, just plain made it.
As I reflect on the year, I’d like to take a moment to acknowledge the devastation and threat to liberation everywhere as we witness the genocide happening in Palestine. I don’t mean this space to be an escape and hope we can hold space for all of these things at once, because we must keep going in the face of unspeakable loss. If you haven’t already, please reach out to your representatives to demand a permanent ceasefire and to stop funding state-sanctioned violence with our tax dollars. Jenna wrote a wonderful guide if you don’t know where to start.
At the time of writing this, more than 19,000 people have been killed, more than seventy of which are journalists. We shouldn’t need a relatable anecdote to evoke empathy and action for what’s happening, but as I dedicate this space as a testament to my own humanity, I also grieve the stories we’re witnessing in real time which come at the sacrifice of theirs.
It’s not business as usual, but business while trying to hold space and coexist with the deeply unsettling reality we live in. Committing ourselves to doing everything we can—small and big—to make this world better for everyone.
Wherever you are, I hope this finds you safe and awake to the world around you.
Some parting thoughts
I’m excited to see one of my photos included in Women Photograph’s 2023 Year in Pictures
The glimpse into the email correspondence between Isabella Hammad and Sally Rooney was insightful, inspiring, and made me feel less alone in my grief.
I’m closing in on reading 50 books this year, and using Storygraph has been a fun way to keep track. I read mostly romance, but I’ll be thinking about What My Bones Know, Tastes Like War, and Essential Labor for a long time.
My favorite romances were anything Sarah MacLean (the Hell’s Belles series!!), this imaginative. inclusive period romance by Courtney Milan, and anything Kate Clayborn (but especially Georgie All Along).
I received a Regional Arts and Culture Grant to continue Every Morning You Greet Me, an ongoing project about the 20+ homes my mother has lived in since coming to America in 1980.
This holiday illustration by Malaka Gharib from a few years ago is one of my favorites of all time. Wishing all the best to you and yours, and maligayang pasko.
So beautiful, Celeste!!