lost highways, big skies
this piece was written over the course of 2026. i'm sorry for how long i've been away. i'm grateful to my community for getting me through this immensely difficult period of my life. thank you for your support <3
february
i'm a perpetual motion machine someone set off in july, walked out of the room, and forgot about for 8 months.
**
may
this line was the only thing written in this draft when I reopened it a few days ago. i resonate with the core message but i find the use of a machine metaphor very interesting. i am both the person who set myself into motion and could have turned it off at any time. why didn't i? why did i instead feel content to hide behind the persona of a perpetual motion machine, an object without agency?
truthfully, i've been on my own lost highway for awhile... i moved to a new city and, within two months, my sense of artistic self evaporated. i got a glimpse around the Big Fashion Curtain and i'd never felt more incapable or inexperienced. here i was, struggling through my hooked on phonics module while everyone else in the room effortlessly typed up their Ph.D. dissertations for their third degree.
i feel more timid than ever; i'm paralyzed by the thought of sending out cold emails, a task that used to fill me with hope and purpose. i imagine the receiver, too, can discern that i'm utterly out of my depth. i'm certain that i've added a year to their life by virtue of how laughable my proposal must be. lucky them.
this deep sense of inadequacy led me down interstates of the mind that spat me out in desolate lands where no good thoughts live. my car's out of gas and i'm miles from a fueling station. at the very least, i can't keep speeding off down the highway for a moment. i welcome the respite... might as well take the time to sit and reflect.
**
june
i've sat in this emotional wasteland as the same thought ricocheted through my mind: i lived in boston for too long. what a waste of time.
i feel like the value of my photography experience vaporized upon entry. i've been told that, without assisting other photographers in order to build a professional network through time on set, no production company would ever opt to work with me. this "truth" is what crushed my spirit back in february.
now, i want to be clear about one thing: i do not feel as though i am above assisting another photographer. i have much to learn about photography as both a craft and a business. if i'm lucky, i will have the chance to learn from others for the rest of my life. what crushed my spirit was the assertion that, despite my experience and my portfolio, i wouldn't be considered to work on projects at my own level of experience.
so, i'm left feeling like i wasted my time in boston. why didn't i move here sooner? why did i even bother to build a portfolio of work in boston if it meant nothing here? what was the point? how could i have been so naïve?
mental self-flagellation is a nasty habit of mine. it's familiar and, at this point, it feels as automatic as breathing. thankfully, a life-changing book had fallen into my hands and i grew weary of this storied response. kinder thoughts started to occupy more space. tears of self-compassion demanded to be shed. slowly, i peeled myself off of the car door, my t-shirt lifting some of the paint from such lengthy contact. i opened the trunk and took out a gas canister, sat in the place i knew i'd stowed it.
i slid into the drivers seat. the engine gently starts up. i get back on the highway, more certain of where i'm headed.
**
july
my fear of fraudulence impeded my capacity for vulnerability. i worried that, if i was honest about what i'd been going through and what i wanted to work towards, i'd admit that i indeed knew nothing. i'd reveal that i was precisely where i deserved to be.
i was on set the other day and, in a lull, a makeup artist i had chatted with about movies and costume design asks me, "are you a stylist?". after telling them i was a fashion photographer, he says something to the effect of, "why are you a production assistant? you clearly have knowledge that, quite frankly, is not being put to good use."
this felt like a rare invitation to actually speak to what's been on my heart, to defy my fear. so, i told him that i was on break from photography, that, since moving to the city, i'd felt so humbled by this place, and that i was a production assistant to make some money and better understand how the industry operates while i looked for photo assistant opportunities. he then told me that he'd gone through something similar a few years ago and shared some advice he'd received when he was struggling:
'it's common to have two waves in the beginning of an artist career. an artist first rides a first wave of accomplishment with a lot of brazen audacity and copious levels of determination. after an indeterminate amount of time, an event will happen where it all comes crashing down. this catastrophic collapse in self-esteem will be accompanied by a break where the artist. eventually, the itch to create will slowly but surely return. this next wave will be slower, simpler, and quieter; the artist will feel more confident in what they do well and more at peace with the areas where they seek improvement.'
he then told me that, once i was ready to return from my break, he'd love to work with me. i left set buoyed by his kindness and the hope his words had given me. this year, there have been many moments where i wondered whether i'd ever pick up a camera again. now, i feel a little more sure that i will return to this medium i love so much with a much better relationship to it. at least, i hope so. it feels really nice to hope for that, finally.
**
august
i've returned to Kate Bush's Hounds of Love, the album that was the genesis of this project. yet, instead of the powerful dreams of Cloudbusting, i find myself drawn to the limitless hope of The Big Sky.
perhaps it's too neat a metaphor but, as i've driven for miles on these lost highways, i imagine that the sky, and its endless capacity for beauty, has been a comfort. i've seen sunrise and sunset aplenty; i've driven for months watching it darken and clear. yet, i've never seen the end of that sky. there's so much ahead of me, of us. there's so much to make, to learn, to feel, to witness, and to dream. thankfully, no matter what highway we may travel down, the big sky will be there to guide us home.
**
it's been hard to engage with a project called dreambusting when i could hardly dream myself. i entered into this with a lot of hope that was decimated by an onslaught of challenging life circumstances. i still believe in this idea. i still want to create a studio space that other artists can freely access to eliminate obstacles of being an artist in this moment.
i will try my best to keep putting effort and intention here. i hope you all can forgive my absence. i hope that what i've shared can be both important context and, for those who may be experiencing something similar, a hug of recognition.
here's to dreambusting!