In this portfolio I wanted to focus on architecture but in more of a story telling way. I took these photos to show how sometimes architecture can lead your eyes and create pathways within itself without meaning to sometimes. Some pathways are easier to notice, like a winding old county road that doesn’t get much use, or the cage around a tall ladder. Other pathways go unnoticed like smoke stacks of an old factory. I played with the concept of “Leading Lines” to create pathways that are more conceptual, or a pathway for your eyes rather than your feet. Some lines lead to other paths, while others lead nowhere. These different types of paths are what makes them go unnoticed by most. Most of the time, this type of secret passage is only noticed by little kids playing pretend and imagining themselves actually using these pathways. When taking these photos I allowed myself to think like a little kid again. I really immersed myself in the childlike joy I often times forget about when taking photos, because as a photographer, it's easy to just conform to what a client may want. When editing these photos, I decided to make them black and white in order to let the viewers eyes find the pathway easily and follow it leisurely without the distraction of bright color. The lack of color, and simplicity of these leading lines allows your mind to rest and fall into that same childish imaginative state I used when taking these photos. I edited the photos using a filter to make them look much older than they are, once again playing on the nostalgia of using your imagination and creative mind. Some photos may look dirty or like they sat in water, but all of them hold the same feeling of finding them several years later and reminiscing. Since I plan to be an architect in the future, I also focused on this concept of hidden pathways through architecture. Allowing myself to still by creative and focus on art while learning and studying different architectural elements in the world.

When I first started high school, I told my parents I'd try band for a year and then decide if I still wanted to quit. I was entering my freshman year, and none of my friends from middle school were going to continue playing band in high school. I started at summer band camp not knowing anyone, and with the feeling that everything we were doing was dumb: the silly warm-ups, the different dress-up days, the odd choreography in the halftime show. I wanted to be a part of none of it. I looked at everyone around me and thought they were weird. After I'd made it through the week of summer band camp, my opinions didn't change. It wasn't until we went back to school a few weeks later that we got to interact with our band director. Our band director, Mr. Nash, pushed everyone to do their best regardless of who they were. He reminded us daily that we were lucky to participate in an activity that requires both mental and physical endurance and focus, because that way, when we performed, we could focus solely on our music and marching. One thing our Mr. Nash told us that I will never forget is that if you're in a group of people doing something, no matter how ridiculous it may seem, join in. By standing still and not participating, you are the person who stands out, and not in a good way. This really impacted how I viewed a lot of things. I realized that, maybe, goofing off in the stands during a football game would look weird to outsiders, but the people doing it are having more fun. By being a part of the Sparkman Band program, I learned not only how to be a better musician but also how to be a better person. Mr. Nash taught us to be proud of who we are and to embrace the things that break the mold and set us apart from everyone else. I am now going into my final year at Sparkman ever grateful that I chose not to quit band after my freshman year. The singular teacher I am the most grateful for is Mr. Nash. There isn't a day that goes by when I'm struggling that stepping into the band room hasn't improved, and that's just a testament to his impact on the band program as a whole.