New Year, Same Me
Hi friends,
Before I wax poetic about the new year, I want to take a moment share some recent work with you.
This fall I photographed several All Saints Day events in town, including this Dia de los Muertos parade led by Krewe de Mayahuel. During the procession down Royal Street, people (and pets) honored loved ones they’ve lost. I am so moved by ways that people in New Orleans remember, celebrate and engage with those who’ve passed away, and I plan to keep documenting these types of gatherings for a long time to come.
In December, I covered the damage from a tornado that touched down in the New Orleans area. Fortunately it was not as bad as the one in March, but many of the homes affected were just recovering from the earlier tornado and/or from Hurricane Ida. Below, a tarp was blown off the roof of a multifamily home in Gretna during the storm.
The increasing frequency of natural disasters like this are a direct result of climate change, and Gen Z is grappling with what that means for their futures. I had the opportunity to photograph high school students Jia and Croix for an Education Week piece on how teens are experiencing climate anxiety. You can read the article and see more images here.
I was lucky to have a healthy holiday season with family in Ohio before returning to close out the year here in New Orleans. It was lovely, but I have to admit: I’ve never been big on New Year’s. Not as a holiday or as a time to write resolutions.
It always seemed so arbitrary to me because time is constantly moving and we can always make changes, right? There was also the unfortunate year I tried to embrace the traditions of the holiday. Yes, dear reader, I’m talking about the year of our lord 2020, when I actually said out loud to a friend “this will be my year! I can feel it!”
As you can imagine, it was not “my year.” I’m guessing it wasn’t yours either. But in the time since, something wonderful happened. This long-held idea I’ve had—that after all the holiday hoopla, tedious goal setting, and “best of” lists, we are just left with ourselves, exactly as we were the day before—became a cause for celebration instead of resignation. We survived another year on this planet. You and me. We’re still here. And that is something worth honoring, don’t you think?
I’ve spent some time reflecting on the past year and even had the audacity to dream about the one ahead (with the help of Suleika Jaouad’s Isolation Journal prompts, tacked on to the end of this newsletter if you’re interested). Here is the closest I can approximate a year in review:
In 2022 I squeezed my niece and nephew countless times. I moved all my belongings one time. I prioritized my mental health above everything else. I learned an immense amount about myself and how my brain works. I started freelancing. I asked for help. I didn’t feel like running, so I walked. I went back to Serbia for the first time since the pandemic began. I felt everything. I camped in the Yucatan. I was woken up by howler monkeys. I didn’t use instagram for 6 months. I got back on Instagram and remembered why I deleted it. I saw friends get married and have babies. I saw friends I hadn’t seen in forever. I made new friends. I made pictures. I made biscotti with my mom.
How have you celebrated making it another year?
It’s Carnival season here in New Orleans, so I’m anticipating a lot more beauty and chaos around the corner. I’ll leave you with an outtake from my story The Bellmen, which was the last Carnival I photographed.
Before I go, as promised:
The Five Lists from the Isolation Journals
What in the last year are you proud of?
What did this year leave you yearning for?
What’s causing you anxiety?
What resources, skills, and practices can you rely on in the coming year?
What are your wildest, most harebrained ideas and dreams?