Hey there! Brian Dys here — I’m a visual and visceral person at heart. Ever since my mom lent me her old film camera, I fell in love with photography. All of my creative musings were exemplified by my second brain, the computer. This journey is a topsy-turvy ride of creative pursuits — from electronic music to UX design.
I enjoy every dull and wild moments of it — yes, this life of mine that I share with a woman named Jaycelle and a boy named Bryce. Take a peek into my kaleidoscope!
We have that capability—to memorize every millisecond that happens in front of our eyes—through technology. But does it mean we could, we should?
Even the brain avoid hurting itself by not storing everything—only the important ones.
So today, I am updating my photo documentary process by dismissing the offshoots. This is to put highlight in giving thoughtful capturing of moments instead of over-shooting and then choosing what’s best in post processing.
The last time I felt this way towards a camera was when I wanted a Canon 6D and a pancake lens. Since I’m kinda going lean in my life, this camera got me.
The first thing you’ll notice is the way the ZEISS ZX1 fits in the hand, the bend in the display – it just feels right. And then you discover the impressive optical quality of the lens: pin sharp results with an amazing depth of detail, juicy vibrant colors and an excellent balance. Source
Did I mention that my math superpower in high school failed to work during my stint in the College of Engineering? My parents’ chosen course for me was ECE. I wrote mine in the second choice field: Creative Writing.
For a year, I managed to trudge through the hallways and classrooms of Velasco. In between schedules, I worked as an SA (student assistant) at computer laboratories—the job took me places (read: other buildings). On Saturdays, the sunny soccer field was my home as a medic in ROTC. These were the places in my world in DLSU.
Never thought of wandering past the library. Never dared to stop wearing plaid polo shirts.
During the last term of my first year, the course I was in felt like chains and balls shackled to my feet. Depression kicked in that I found myself breaking out in tears in a Philosophy class. The prof was sharing about her journey in Zen and at some point I was sure she was talking directly to me about finding freedom and peace.
Armed with an SLR and some knowledge in Adobe Photoshop, I shifted to Advertising Management (after finding closed doors in Communication Arts)—did all the paperworks and passed the qualifying exam. Then I told my parents about it. I don’t remember that it really mattered to them—the sin that I did. They were full support in my education, I realized.
One lazy afternoon, along the walkway of SJ Bldg. were recruitment booths lined up left and right. I was looking for a place where I could contribute in photography and graphic design and there I found LaSallian and Malate. Or they found me?
Just some of the works I unearthed from an old hard drive:
Other works include cover design of a couple folio issues, published photographs (of course) and some written works in a logbook—beaten and left for dead by legit poetry members.
My money allowance in college—they all went to the photo shops for films and development. I started shooting black and white because they were cheaper at thirty–six shots, 200 ISO. It was sufficient back then—having thirty–six in the roll. Having a couple or more rolls would take months to expose.
Only precious moments were captured and the moments captured became captivating.
Etched in my memory until now was the dream I had of having a digital camera—yes, unlimited shutter clicks. It was a feeling—no, more like a longing—in my waking life that manifested itself one night. I woke up in frustration—of only dreaming, of not having.
Imagine the possibilities was the only thing I could think of. Imagine the possibilities of never having to curtail my favorite moments.
The results were endless offshoots—photos that were not five–star material yet not fit for the trash bin either. So they get exported into a lower resolution for easier archival.
Maybe one day, future me would match the feelings of those blurred and unkempt slices of life. Scarcity, then, would not only be about quantity but about time incapable of rewinding.
The most memorable part of the movie for me was when Lou went into the bathroom to pour his overflowing emotions upon knowing that he got the job. He won the jackpot that he did an Elvis and a Rocky.
I sensed a familiarity with this scene because I once lost a job and thought it’s the world’s end. Yet my mom simply laughed it out. It made everything bearable. All hope and confidence were restored upon landing another job.
All families got problems but you only got one. Lou Wheeler