A Mock Reflection on the Photoboard.

To ask me to reflect on my work, is quite daunting.

This is not my submission, more or less this is a draft. A chance for me to ramble.

  

Fernet could be the defining drink of the modern bartender. It is sweet, it is bitter, it has spice, and it is herbaceous. For most, the idea of consuming this drink, by choice, is not a pleasant one, as the flavours in the drink are quite forward and overpowering. But for those who consume it, those who understand the rituals behind it, the drink is a secret-handshake of sorts. This photo epitomises the modern bartending subculture, showing the arrogance, snobbery and exclusivity surrounding it today. I am glad to be a part of it.

I don’t know who I am. I wouldn’t consider Mokai my hometown. I did not grow up there. My father did not grow up there. My Grandmother grew up in Mokai. The family farm is a dilapidated pile of wood and corrugated iron, with weeds growing all around. But this place is a part of me. I’ve been here more times than I can count. I’ve slept in the door-less “farmhouse” on far too many occasions. I’ve spent too many days here without cell phone coverage, and without electricity. It has taught me about myself, about life, about what to do, about whom to trust. This place is a part of me, a part of my identity, whether I like it or not.

Sitting right underneath the harbour bridge, Sulphur beach paints Auckland in a beautiful light. The view makes the city look rich, in both wealth and wellbeing. The skyline is bright, the water is still, and the scene is peaceful. The photo is a smokescreen, failing to show the true nature of the city, and how the basic human rights of some New Zealanders are being blatantly ignored. Every person has the right to an adequate standard of living, but the homeless are being ignored. The view of Auckland lets me know that even though everything looks fine from the outside, the truth is very different.

The Rosetta stone, to me, is the greatest artefact in human history. It shows the power of the Classical Era. Without this stone, we would have been unable to learn the history of Ancient Egypt, of ourselves, of Greco-Egyptian relations, of the history of man. To me, the stone represents connection. It shows that we’re connected, that we’re one in the same.

My views, although vague, is still the same. These concepts haven’t changed mostly because of the ambiguity of them, and of my views too. What is my culture? I have no ‘one’ culture. What is my identity? I don’t even know who I am. Human Rights? Sure, there are far too many homeless people on Queen Street. History? Well, history.