I was on my lunch hour walking back to work one day when I came to the corner of Fourth Avenue and University. On that corner is the Cobb (an historic Seattle landmark built in 1910), several shops, the University bookstore, and the pièce de résistance: Luly Yang's Studio Boutique.
The Boutique is a fabulous haute couture dress shop with the most beautifully decorated windows I have ever seen. They are filled with stunning bridal and evening gowns handcrafted from the finest European and Asian satins, silks and lace. Most of the dresses are accompanied by gorgeous accessories (shoes, handbags and jewelry), all displayed against an exquisite blue backdrop.
Looking at Luly's windows, filled with her timeless and elegant creations, transported me to another place and time. I felt like Alice did as she slid through the Looking Glass…the glass was beginning to melt away, just like a bright silvery mist. As I stood there, observing the effect of the reflections on these magnificent dresses, the glass melted away and the two realities coalesced into one ever-changing, amazing image.
I returned to that corner several days later to take a few photographs. Pleased with how they turned out, I thought it might be fascinating to return to that same corner and photograph Luly's windows over time, throughout the seasons, as they changed both inside and out. "The Fourth Avenue Project" was born.
Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage.
-anais nin
Although I'd been inspired by the photography of Heather Champ, Jerry Uelsmann, and Henri Cartier-Bresson, the Fourth Avenue project was my first real foray into the art of street photography. Even as a little girl I'd been
intrigued by the thought that there are billions of people in the world, all living separate and unique lives, and you can never ever know all of them. At best you'll know a miniscule fraction. Street photography has become a way for me to take people-watching another step further, to make that fraction a little less miniscule.
Street photography did not come easy for me. In fact, it has been incredibly challenging to do it well. When you have a camera with you, the reactions you get from strangers range from complete comfort to total discomfort. I strive to only shoot people in their best light and to find decisive moments that move me in some way. It's been a struggle to find the inner peace, comfort and courage to photograph strangers in public, but it has been supremely gratifying. I've met fantastic people that I would never have met if not for photography and the medium has taught me to look at the world in a more perceptive way.
One of the things I've learned from doing the Fourth Avenue Project is that if you have a dream, if you have something you love to do, get out there and go for it. If you use your heart and your imagination, I don't think you can go wrong. I think probably one of the most important lessons I've learned about photography is that you can lose yourself and find yourself at the same time. And it is at that precise moment, no matter what genre of art you aspire to, when the direction of your artistry reveals itself to you.
Henri Cartier-Bresson once said that "To take a photograph is to hold one's breath when all faculties converge in a face of fleeing reality. It is at that moment that mastering an image becomes a great physical and intellectual joy. To take a photograph means to recognize - simultaneously and within a fraction of a second- both the fact itself and the rigorous organisation of visually perceived forms that give it meaning. It is putting one's head, one's eye, and one's heart on the same axis."
I try to remember his words whenever I am behind the lens. I think that sums up how I feel about the project - and the art of photography.
Editorial note: More photographs from the Fourth Avenue Project may be viewed here.