Hi, Hiatus!

Calm in the Midst of Chaos by Joel Locaylocay

My dear loyal readers, I am going to step away from blogging for a while until I figure out how best to represent myself online. I am in the process of learning how to setup my own domain and website, so saying that I am going to be preoccupied would be an understatement as I am very much clueless about how to go about the whole thing. I am undertaking this move because I would very much like to have more control over  my pictures as uploading them on sites such as this one actually grants the hosting company a license to use it (albeit non-exclusively). Essentially, I just want to plan in preparation for my transition into self-employment.

I, of course, will keep on shooting, but will be posting my pictures on 500px for now. I am also keeping my accounts on Google+, Facebook, and Twitter, so you should still be able to reach me there for a friendly chat or perhaps commission me for a portrait sitting. As of now, I am still uncertain about the future of this blog, but for now let me just say —

Thanks for reading and I'll see you around. 

Leap of Faith

Due to my decision to not finish my master's degree, I will most likely be teaching part-time (if at all) this coming second semester. I was in no way blindsided about this soon-to-be-fact; I was made perfectly aware that this would be the consequence of my inaction and I am gladly accepting it. Truth be told, if I was given another 'reprieve', I would adamantly refuse such an offer.

I will take my knocks and move on.

But the Finish Line Is in Sight

A lot of people have already lectured me on how little I have left to do before I get my degree, and the most common analogy used in these talks is that of a race. I'm nearly at the finish, so why not call on one last second wind to get myself to cross the line?

I am not arguing the validity of the comparison, but I must question their perspective. Whatever people tell me about how they can relate to this specific part of my life, I must remind them that no one ever can. The same way that I can't claim to know what other people are going through based on their career decisions or the kind of shoes they wear. If I were to offer my own analogy it would be that of a person drowning his sorrows in alcohol (which I have quite some personal experience with as well) looking at the last remnants of liquor in the bottle, and then asking himself whether he should just go ahead and gulp it down.

Would the same people espousing the race analogy still call it a waste if the bottle was left unfinished?

Mr. End meet Mrs. End

I realize that this will pose a number of problems for me and my wife financially, but I don't plan on taking any days off come October. I will be using the time to launch a photography business that has been in development for the past few months. I will be actively engaged in portfolio-building personal projects over the next few months and will be promoting my best work to potential clients wherever and whenever. I also realize that I will not earn anything from this venture right away, but my Susan has firmly assured me that we can do this and that she is with me every step of the way. I count myself blessed to have such a lovely and strong woman in my life.

I am also very fortunate to have the support of a select number of family and friends who have been rooting for me from the beginning. And of course, I always appreciate you, my loyal readers, for embarking on this journey with me.

That Sinking Feeling

I once heard one of my college classmates bemoan the fact that he felt his whole life was on the brink of falling off a cliff over water. I always thought that cliffs are just geological formations that signal where the land ends and the sea begins. Why should I continuously shuffle my feet near the precipice when I can cannonball into the cool water that awaits below and rewrite life from hereon in.

There is definitely more to come...

Changing Places

Some people are just irreplaceable. Their very absence leaves a void that most often can never be filled. I witnessed such a vacuum firsthand when I came to the university to teach. Our department was nearing the end of its golden age and the Atlases who once held it up were gone. The load that they carried for decades was passed on to the shoulders of those who were left. A colossal task that could have been made bearable if everyone only took on a part of the yoke.

I realized late that the 'love' people unabashedly declared for their profession was not absolute. There was no clear-cut standard for the many shades of this so-called love. Well, self-aggrandizement and self-preservation, maybe. There was now a gaping maw from where the department was and where it ought to be. In a nutshell, the bridge was out, and people weren't exactly as eager to fill this gap than to cross it at all costs. It became clear at that stage that it was time to rebuild, but it became apparent as the re-edification process wore on that some parts were missing and that some were unfortunately 'decorative'. I (as have others, albeit behind my back) have found myself to be lacking, yet I could not completely comprehend for the life of me why I threw my body to the span.

As of today, the bridge stands unfinished. It is held together by a few determined parts that have now been stretched too thin from wear and tear, holding on due to some misplaced sense of duty and familiarity. But for as long as these parts hold, the span that will once again carry the department to its renaissance will never get built. Not until people stop waiting for the next Atlas to come along, not until they search their souls for the meaning of the word love, and not until it is allowed to fall.

It has been over ten years since I first nervously stepped into a classroom full of students. Each semester since has passed by in a dreamy blur. Each new year brought its share of new faces, new stories, and old endings --- my life as a teacher became episodic. And it seems that even though nothing seemed to stay the same, everything that mattered was at a standstill.

For what has seemed like an eternity, I can again finally smell change in the air. And before the year ends, I am writing a new ending to one last episode.

Perseverance Pays (in Kind)

A few days back as I was waiting in vain (like the song) for some Perseids love, I had to contend with a zealous moon. I couldn't keep the shutter open for too long because Luna would wash the sky out.

I planned on an elaborate method of using moon-shaped ND gels held by a black piece of wire to selectively underexpose the moon. It's easier to do a composite in Photoshop, I know, but I can't afford a license for that yet. (Lightroom more than suffices for my current processing needs anyway.) But since it was around 4 AM and my brain did not have its daily dose of caffeine yet, I decided to use my finger... to surprisingly good (for me, at least) and funny results.

This is probably as close to 'compositing' as I will get.

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This post was originally shared on my Google+ stream. If you have a G+ account, please feel free to add me to your circles (here's a link to my profile - gplus.to/jrlocaylocay). If you're not on G+ yet and you're experiencing Facebook fatigue, then you can sign up for one here - https://plus.google.com/

Saving Stories

Great pictures tell great stories. The picture above is unremarkable at best, but I believe that the story behind it deserves telling. Some moments do not simply lend themselves to repetition and they become lost in memory after they pass.

This was shot on a gusty, blustery Sunday afternoon that would see typhoon Gener ravage the northern part of the archipelago while still making its presence felt everywhere else in the country. The people in the image are harvesting shells, the kind that's usually boiled (often with vegetables) to make soup. They scoured the entire length of the beachfront for hours, wading in thigh-deep waters in that inclement weather. However, it wasn't until I passed some of them on my way home that I noticed that the plastic gallons that they used as containers were barely a third of the way full.

And it was at this moment that I decided to give this image its best chance to recount the story of these shell harvesters because I truly believe that awareness can be a powerful thing. I don't normally ask as much of an image in post as I have this particular picture, but my original capture was rather flat and undramatic. By post-processing purposefully, I pushed it to its limits to extract every detail in the tale that I begged it to narrate.

This is not a great picture, not by any stretch, and I would not normally share it, but it is an image that gave me both pause and perspective. And sometimes you have to save the picture, so it can tell its story.

Something Good Can Happen After 3 am

There is a short window of time, right after the moon sets and just before the preglow of sunrise begins to show over the horizon, when the sky reveals its more oft-missed wonders to me --- the stars.

Under the right conditions and with a lot of luck, I can usually make out a lot more of them than one usually sees in the city, given that I'm viewing them through a sickly mixture of halogen and fluorescent lights. Watching the sky in all its glittering glory takes me back to sleepless summer nights when I was a teenager, when my friends and I would go to the beach and wait for the sun to come up. We would sit on the sand, listen to the waves lap up the shore, and just talk for hours on end. Good times.

And although I am a fan of daybreak, there is just something about a starry sky that holds me in awe and makes me feel a little more hopeful that the coming day is just going to be all right. At an age where mornings are viewed with so much disdain and dread, I believe I may just have found my own slice of heaven.

1 out of 259

Poet Rita Dove once said, "Poetry is language at its most distilled and most powerful." I am fortunate to have a twofold insight into that wonderful passage --- First, as a chemist, I have experienced firsthand how a substance can be refined via the effervescent purification of the distillation process. Second, as the occasional 'poet', I can appreciate how choosing the right words for the right occasion can make one's message far greater than the sum of its parts.

These words resonate in photography as well. I believe now (and it took me a while to get to this point) that if you want to make a great picture, you just don't need to get the technical aspect right, but you have to consider the creative elements of the image (and more so). Your picture must tell a story. And very often this story is achieved by choosing what part of the image to show in the frame. And even when you feel that you have a lot of good pictures that meet the criteria, not all of them will be great. Trust me, they're not. (Quite often, you have to be your own worst critic.)

I read an article for photographers who want to improve their skill; the piece was written by a professional who said that if you get ten good pictures in a year, then you can consider that to be a good year. So, in as much as I would like to 'say more' by putting out more pictures, I chose the picture below out of 259 (culled from nearly 400 images) to tell my story of last Saturday's department party*.

Do you think I was able to tell my story of the events that transpired well enough?

Please feel free to throw in your two cents in the 'comment well' below. Thanks for reading.

*Other pictures from the event will still be posted for the purposes of documentation. :-)#

Finding a New Home

Painted Light by Joel Locaylocay

I have been looking for a home for my more recent work for a while now. Aside from being able to showcase my images, the service should also recognize the effort I've put into creating them and protect my intellectual property at the same time. It looks like my pictures may just have found a home in 500px. Please keep watching this space for my best work, and hopefully pretty soon, I'll be able to put up a current portfolio.

As always, thanks for the support.

Land(e)scapist

I would like to think that I know enough about photography to make a decent portrait of a person. Well at the very least, I know which end of the camera should point at my subject. The past few years of my pursuit of the secrets of this craft have been directed towards making memorable pictures of people. However, I often have the opportunity to travel, during which I am presented with someplace new to put in front of my lens.

I am not a landscape guy. But, I do appreciate the world-melting-away moment that one experiences while carefully framing and making the shot of a still scene. There is a sense of fulfillment to be had when I see the shot I visualized minutes before appear on the camera's LCD screen. I won't pretend to know half of what a landscape photographer worth his salt knows, but I find that this therapeutic exercise actively engages my composition skills and forces me to think.

I have also come to realize that in many ways shooting landscapes isn't that much different from shooting people. Allow me to elaborate on that with a few examples.

Example no. 1 - Identify your subject's strong features and highlight them.

There was nothing interesting happening in both the sky and the water. However, I had this concrete pier creating a strong line leading into the horizon, so I chose to use it as the focal point of the image above.

Example no. 2 - Use light to flatter your subject.

Used to working with off-camera flash, I would readily take one out of the bag if I were shooting under the lighting conditions of the scene above. Having not quite yet reached the point where I can 'paint' a landscape with flash successfully, I opted to use a tripod instead. A slower shutter speed allowed me to scrounge for available light and bring out the colors and features of the landscape. I would like to think that save for the inside of a whale at the bottom of the ocean on a moonless night that there is always light to be found — one just has to know how to look for it.

I must admit that I thoroughly enjoyed shooting landscapes. It definitely helped that I rise early to catch daybreak and wait out sunsets until the sky turns black. However, I will always find my home in shooting pictures of people, but I don't see why I can't mix the two together and see what comes out.

Looking Back

Quite a number of people who both know me and my brother, Jonas, well often make observations about how different we are. In many ways, there is truth in their comments. As children, I would sit happily with very few friends (or even a book at times) while he would be off 'directing' most of the neighborhood kids as to what game they should play for that afternoon. My yaya, at some point, may have contemplated putting a bell around my neck just so she could tell if I was in her vicinity, while my brother's minder may have thought about plugging her ears with cotton. I was quite the young diplomat but ended up in a lot of fights with my brother because he somehow dragged me into the ones that he had already unintentionally started. Good times.

Now that we're both into our 30's, I have come to realize with each passing year how much alike we are. We both like to be among our closest friends, although their numbers may differ. We both speak up to make a point, although the volume of our words may vary. We both stand up for what we believe is right, although we've given up the use of our fists to do so.

My brother and I will always have our differences and similarities. But for me, what's important is the realization that we have shared such a wonderful relationship despite them.

Happy birthday, Jon.

Speaking Up

What kind of pictures would you like to shoot?

Is the first question, I believe, that one should answer before embarking on the pursuit of photography. In fact, it should even come before deciding on what camera to get. Although I arrived at my answer to that question by trial (and a lot of ) error, I gather that I have found my place in the vast of sea of pictures that make up an ever-changing photographic tapestry.

I will reiterate that my passion and greater interest has always been shooting pictures of people, and telling their stories in the process. However, I have come to realize that if I am to sustain myself in the business of photography, then I have to exhibit some degree of versatility when it comes to the work that I can produce.

Allow me then to present a sample of how I shoot (and in most cases, light) the following subjects:

*Click on any of the images to view it larger in a light box.

Furniture

Food

Flowers

Fashion

But at end of the day, I find my home in making pictures of people where... well, allow me to quote a touching testimonial from one of my favorite subjects and best friend, Maricel —

"I can testify that you have a way of capturing images of people not in their 'usual self', but in 'what they are capable of'."

With that being said, allow me to present one of the ways by which I make pictures of

People

I am Joel. I am a photographer. 

What kind of pictures would you like me to shoot for you?

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If you're interested in commissioning my services, please refer to my contact details in the 'Contact/Bookings' tab under the site title above. 

Just Human

I shot the above picture for a multimedia essay project undertaken by a number of volunteers for the Women's Resource Center of Cebu last year. The project involved conversing with women from all walks of life from the city and retelling their tales at an exhibit for International Women's Month in Kortrijk, Belgium this year.

As of this writing, some of the pictures that I made during the two interviews that I covered are being shown more than halfway across the globe. I got to participate in the process of making their stories heard. It's an awesome feeling just to be a part of it. The volunteer I worked with promised to send me pictures of the exhibit, and I will be sharing them with you, together with the other pictures I made in a more substantial post.

More to come...

On My Father's Shoulders

I have encountered many pastry recipes that listed a pinch of salt as one of the ingredients. At first, I found this quite peculiar. Why add salt to a mixture that is supposed to come out sweet? But after taking a bite off the first treat that comes out of the oven, I begin to understand the reason for the 'odd' instruction. Sugar is sweet and we expect it to be so; but, who would have thought that it is the few grains of salt that give the sweetness something to contrast with, essentially adding a layer of flavor to what would otherwise be saccharine monotony.

I would like to believe that the same can be said of physical strength. Sinew and power are only truly underscored when they are used to perform the most gentle of acts. As a young child, I would constantly bear witness to my father's daily feats of strength: moving heavy furniture around the house, swinging my book-laden school bag into the trunk of the car, and carrying my younger brother to bed when he would fall asleep on the living room couch while watching TV. When one is little, it would seem that there is nothing that one's father couldn't do. I remember 'flying' out of the theater, while precariously perched on his shoulders, after we watched Superman. Not once did I ever consider the possibility that I would fall.

Last Sunday, January 8, my father celebrated his 64th birthday. His step is a lot less sprightly and his once mighty shoulders have drooped with age. I find myself battling with the thought that there will come a time that he will have to lean on me for support. And if the cruel fates should conspire, I will be the one carrying him off to bed. I dearly hope not. Yet, at the same time, I am thankful for having had the chance to sit atop his shoulders that day at the theater because in that very moment I learned the true meaning of strength.

Happy birthday, Pops.

The Daybreak Diaries (2)

Like a Ship without a Rudder

I spent most of my life doing what other people expected me to do. When I was younger, I would accept the word of elders (and even peers) as irrefutably right because this was what good young boys did. I would get anxious at the slightest hint of disappointment that I developed an 'apology reflex' – I would say sorry even if none of it was my fault (you would know this if you bumped me on the street then). I stowed my dreams and hopes away to protect them from thoughtlessly being picked upon by others –

Is this your idea? This is clearly not the way you think.

That course of action is too impractical.

You, an artist? You're just pulling my leg, right?

This is just a phase. You'll get your head straight on in no time.

Do you really think you have what it takes to do what you're setting out to do?

I realized almost too late that living your life according to the not-so-subtle prodding of societal 'norm' set me up for that one fateful day when I would look myself in the mirror and not recognize the person in front of me. It is a daunting realization to have. Here you are too far along the course of your life following a map that people, who claim to know better, have thoughtlessly scribbled on. Wresting back control of your life and knowing all too well how much more difficult it is going to be to plot your own route and stay on it is downright frightening. I found myself disheartened on numerous occasions because I would choose the status quo over life-altering change.

Fortunately, it is a choice that is offered to us more than once. We are given many opportunities to take the wheel and seize control of our life. Yet, we are only given so many chances. Seemingly, each turning point follows a pattern for me: a long-awaited moment of insight followed by a brief period of clarity and serenity, and finally the everyday struggle that is the rest of my life. One would think that struggle would be too harsh a word, but in my experience, it is quite apt. And I believe that it is at this point that we get tempted to relinquish control. But, we have to stick with it.

It is true that the day-to-day labor of setting your heading and avoiding the cliffs and rocks along the way is a task that requires you to be fully present (I believe the word toil was coined to encapsulate the experience). Yet, I also believe that when you find yourself where you ought to be, the pains and aches of all that toil will all melt away.

If you find yourself too far away from the course that you initially charted, know that you can always turn back, but you would have to turn... now.

The Daybreak Diaries (1)

The dawn lost its promise of hope. I hadn't slept a wink, but I so desperately wanted to unshackle myself from the pile of pillows and blankets that were strewn on the bed. Without warning, a cold indifference seeps through the covers and into my skin. And just like that, I lie frozen in a constrictive cocoon as the rest of the world goes on with their lives.

Depression affects more people than most would believe. And even those who are afflicted are often trapped in a limbo of denial. All too often, it is left undiagnosed and dismissed as the product of an individual's overly developed sense of drama.

As a result of the social stigma attached to depression, many people choose to suffer in silence. On most days it requires less effort to smile and say 'I'm okay.' rather than have to unburden yourself on someone – a person who may genuinely care for you, but will fumble around with the how (because at this point you don't even know what would help) or a person who may have just asked 'How are you?' for the sake of being polite.

All too often one shuns the opportunity to stand up and share the turmoil that is brewing inside when you know that yours will be the only voice that will stir the comfortable silence. However, I have realized that  it takes but one soul to stand up and speak, so that the rest can be heard. I do not claim to understand depression in any professional capacity. What I share here are all culled from my personal experience with it – the crippling melancholy, the grueling daily struggle and the occasional small victory.

I do not pretend to have any answers. I am merely sharing accounts of everyday battles in a war that I have to wage until I draw my last breath. I am not even sure what I hope to achieve, but I strongly believe that this debilitating disease loses a part of its hold on you when you open up about it.

These are my daybreak diaries.

The Observer Effect

The observer effect (and allow me to borrow the definition from physics) is the change brought upon by the very act of observation on the phenomenon being studied. This influence is not only prevalent when one is studying the very small, but scales quite nicely into the macroscopic world as well.

In photography, there is also the question of candidness. When a subject is unaware that her picture is being taken, one can argue the point, that the resulting image is genuinely candid. Whereas another could question its authenticity by presupposing that the subject of the photograph could very well be an actress who is very good at having her day-to-day activities 'candidly' captured. I, on the other hand, would like to propose that from the moment we became aware that we existed on this world, surrounded by all sorts of people and objects, that all our actions have been altered in some way by the knowledge that at any given time there is the possibility that we are being observed.

And it's not just the case of adapting a public demeanor because even when you are 'alone', you find yourself performing actions that seemingly require an audience (e.g. singing in the shower). My inference therefore is that none of our actions are truly ever candid because if you are reading this in a less-than-private place, you are probably looking over your shoulder to see if someone is standing behind you.

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*A larger version of the above picture can be viewed here.

A Light in the Dark

Just last week, my good friend, Queenie, wrote a short piece on finding kindred spirits on one's journey through life. I only hope that we all could be so lucky to find these people who can empathize with our plight and give us the strength to persevere through the darkest of days. I, for one, am grateful to be blessed to have such people in my life.

Thank you, P're, for being one. And happy birthday. :-)#

Shooting Friends

Social networking services have severely diluted the word friend. Personally, I do not only find it grammatically uncouth to use it as a verb, but I am also mildly disturbed as to how it is thrown into the same stew of words as acquaintance and associate.

Every Day

For a good part of my life, I navigated the dark and turbulent seas alone. When all one knows is struggle without ebb, it is not only unexpected, but quite uncommon to have someone offer solace and warmth. Yet, even in the safety of this person’s harbor, one gazes upon the brewing tempest in the horizon as if there was a part of us that longed for the unrest . Too many times I’ve forgotten that I don’t have to brave the turmoil of life by myself or that if I found myself at the mercy of the fates, I now have someone in the same boat with me.

Thank you, Ga, for not only reminding me, but showing me just that.

Age is Just a Number

Today, I turn 34. I’ve heard from a couple of close friends that I should at least write something about this very occasion or even myself (Perish the thought!) . I’ve never been comfortable with self-promotion, so I’ll conveniently divert the topic towards humanity’s preoccupation with age, and time in general.

We give these numbers too much power over our lives.

The years we’ve existed on this earth. The days that lie between a long day and the weekend. The hours we spent waiting for someone to show up. The minutes we wasted nervously pacing in worry over the most inconsequential things. And I could go on and on about how an arbitrary measure of a moment’s passing has taken over the way we live.

I’m not saying that numbers aren’t important. In fact, they are one of the most important tools that have been made available to us. But, they are just that — tools. And in that perspective, we are letting a tool dictate the run of our day.

And all too often we end up waiting. Waiting for the right time, the right moment. We then conveniently cocoon ourselves in the comfort of old reasons and rationalizations. We wait for the New Year to resolve our issues. We wait for the right time to talk to someone. We wait for our next birthday to finally do something about our dreams. The years go by in a blink and we’re still waiting.

I fall into the same trap over and over (as do nearly all of us), but I’ve learned to cope with it by convincing myself that there is no such thing as perfect timing. There is no meter that runs down, reminding us of how long we have left. We jump from one fleeting moment to the next, hoping that we land on our feet. The life that we’ve so neatly measured in occasions and events could very well end in an instant. And just so I don’t forget, I woke up today telling myself —

Happy birthday, Jo. Today a helicopter could fall on your head while you think of how many minutes it might take for the rain to fall. Make the most out of it.