While traveling with my partner, Kevin, and our six-month-old daughter, Loretta, in France, we spent a weekend in Giverny, where Monet spent much of his time immersed in the vibrant garden that became the subject for so many of his paintings. I brought along my dad’s old Canon FTb and shot two rolls of film, one in color and one in black and white.
Upon returning home, I developed the film and discovered that every image had come out of focus. Shots of our daughter were blurred, the backgrounds were softened, and the landscapes seemed as impressionistic as Monet’s own work. These accidental, unfocused photographs mirrored not only the place we had visited but the internal shift I was experiencing as a new mother. The blur reflected my own transition into this new role, a time where clarity was elusive and everything felt in flux.
These "mistakes" revealed a new perspective—focus, both in my life and in my art, has shifted. I now see differently, with a deeper awareness of how the world looks when viewed through the lens of change.
Upon returning home, I developed the film and discovered that every image had come out of focus. Shots of our daughter were blurred, the backgrounds were softened, and the landscapes seemed as impressionistic as Monet’s own work. These accidental, unfocused photographs mirrored not only the place we had visited but the internal shift I was experiencing as a new mother. The blur reflected my own transition into this new role, a time where clarity was elusive and everything felt in flux.
These "mistakes" revealed a new perspective—focus, both in my life and in my art, has shifted. I now see differently, with a deeper awareness of how the world looks when viewed through the lens of change.