Photo Assignment: A Few Of Your Favorite Things
In case you missed it, we have an ongoing Instagram project with KPCC called Public Square. Each month we make a new assignment, and this month, we want to see some of your favorite things. Tell us what they are in the caption and tag the photo #PSMyFavoriteThings. You've got until the end of December.
Here's one to kick us off — from @xxvism on Instagram:
1. A leather pouch that holds a lock of my father's hair. He passed away two years ago. If my house was burning and I could only grab one thing, this is it.
2. An old can of Krylon spray paint. It reminds me of the countless days I spent with my best friends painting and skateboarding. The glory days!
3. A copy of the zine "Every Everything" which my brother Nick and I made for a recent show. It's a compilation of not only our creative collaborations, but also a glimpse into an unbreakable bond and friendship.
4. A railroad tie. To me this symbolizes adventure, freedom, and possibilities. It also reminds me of some beautiful lines written by Robert Frost; "I have been one acquainted with the night. I have walked out in rain — and back in rain. I have out-walked the furthest city light."
And another from Beth Nakamura, who manages The Oregonian's Instagram feed:
1) A bar of Fels-Naptha soap. Because it was my mother's favorite. She died of cancer when I was 30. Usually it's little stuff that brings her back.
2) An anonymous booking photograph. Because behind every person is something sparkly and magnificent, a story waiting to be told. I work in journalism and see it firsthand, over and over.
3) A roll of twine. Because life is, for the most part, maddeningly messy, I vacillate between wanting to stuff it all into pretty little boxes and realizing it's just not possible.
4) A cigarette. Because sometimes I sneak them. My dirty, shameful little secret. Exposed.
5) A number sign. Although this "No." means number, for me it will always mean: No. Period. Because my life is marked by moments that stand in defiance of that word.
6) An old snapshot holder. It's empty. Which means it's full of possibility. Because as a photojournalist, it's not about the pictures you've taken, but the ones you've yet to make.
7) Home Sweet Home, cross-stitched and framed. I made it when I longed for such things. Like most deep longing, it stays hidden from sight.