"Lost In Time" Self Portraits

What does it look like to put the passing of time into pictures?

How does someone convey the way they experience time in a still image?

This photo essay is my personal answer to these questions.

Reading has been a major part of my life for as long as I can remember, and it holds the key to something I just can’t get ahold of in other areas of my life. For this fine art self-expression project, I sought out locations that would perhaps be deemed unconventional places to sit down and fall into a deep focus; then captured myself doing just that.

I am the oldest child, so early on instead of playing with siblings, I gravitated towards the solitude and entertainment of books. I picked up the skill of reading very young, and by the time I was in kindergarten my mom, who has never been a reader herself, had grown tired of buying new magic tree house books multiple times a week. Instead, she purchased the biggest children’s book she could find: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. That kept me busy for an entire month, and I was so wrapped up I took it everywhere with me and couldn’t set it down. That’s how it’s been any time I’ve picked up a book ever since then; when I am in the middle of a good book, my attention won’t be shared with homework, chores, movies, conversations, or even sleep. Hours fly by without my noticing, and any setting becomes a perfect reading nook. 

During my senior year of high school, I was looking ahead at college and knew this could put my entire academic and social life at risk, so I quit reading altogether. All the sudden, I was frustrated with my inability to focus on any task whether it was related to schoolwork, self-care, or hobbies. My grades suffered, and so did my mental health. I longed for that intense focus I fell into whenever I read and was confused why it didn’t exist in hardly any other area of my life. Finally, I decided if I was struggling anyways, bringing reading back into my life surely couldn’t make things worse. Winter of my second year in university, I read through an entire 500 page novel in 36 hours; it was the first book I’d completed in over 2 years. I felt more accomplished than I had in a while, so I started another one. And another one. 2 weeks later, I’d gone through 6 books. I was reading next to my friends while they played mario kart, at a coffee shop while they crammed for finals, beside the long jump runway during a track meet, in bed with a booklight until it was time to get up. I was back to the old me, where my whole world would fade away as my eyes poured over white pages filled with black letters.

As you could expect, my time spent engaging with friends decreased and my grades didn’t improve in the slightest. I started going to counseling, and after a couple sessions my therapist asked if I’d ever been diagnosed with ADHD. This opened a door to new conversations with my friends and my parents, but those discussions had different outcomes. While my close friends admitted to suspecting I had ADHD all along, my parents were convinced there was no way. One of their main reasons: I have always had the opposite of trouble when it comes to sitting still and reading for extremely long periods of time. I shared what I had learned about hyperfixations that occur with ADHD and suggested that could be the explanation, but they weren’t sold.

I haven’t sought out a proper assessment or diagnosis yet. However, I’ve continued to do research about how my brain might function differently and have learned so much that helps me to manage my weaknesses and appreciate my strengths. Reading still is and will always be special, because in my experience it’s the most beautiful way to get lost in time.