Emilia Kashfian

Describe your journey with photography.

My passion for photography began from the very first time I picked up a camera as a young girl. I started with a 110 point-and-shoot, a birthday gift I had received at age 11. It was on a family road trip that summer, when the fascination of capturing an instant began, where I was moved in such a way by what I was seeing and feeling. 

In college, I took a class or two, learning to shoot with film. That somehow turned me into the designated family photographer and videographer —  my dad’s influence, of course. Shooting landscapes and macro photography, however, was what I connected to back then.  Documenting family gatherings didn’t appeal to me much, and it was what ultimately led me to losing interest in photography altogether for many years. That, and the un-timely death of my father.  

Looking back, I realize now how grateful I am to him for his push in making me take photographs and videos those years ago, not only for the treasure of wonderful memories he’s left for us, but also for what this art form has come to mean to me. 

While grieving his loss, and not knowing what direction I wanted to take after graduating college, I took on a temporary position in management, which then turned into a permanent one for over 14 years. But, whether or not I knew it then, my heart was always in the arts. I freelanced as a part-time floral designer, and then as a makeup artist for a few years after that, wanting to re-establish myself as an artist. I also decided to take a few extension courses in photography at university. Studying the works of the masters, like Henri Cartier-Bresson, Julius Schulman, and Arnold Newman really impacted me, and is what ultimately re-ignited my love and passion for photography.  

It was when I was getting my training in digital photography that smartphone photography had just taken off. Funny enough, I was pretty reluctant then to be taken seriously, shooting with a smartphone. It somehow felt unprofessional to me. Fast forward to 2016, I decided to create a website, opened an Instagram account, and began posting and tagging my work. A little late to the game, but who knew where it would lead me in such a short period of time, shooting primarily with an iPhone? It’s been the very instrument in translating how my eyes see the world, sometimes even better than what I envision.

The focus of my work is mainly on fine art photography with an abstract and/or minimalist approach. I feel my aesthetic developed from my affinity for shooting nature and its simplicity, from when I was younger.  Using a Canon AE-1 we had at home, I’d go out into my backyard and shoot flowers, skylines, and anything that caught my eye. 

I’ve come to realize that learning to work with and create from a space of whatever was available to me at the time, really brought out my creativity in delivering something more. And what I feel not only defines me as an artist in how I share my perspective, but ultimately, it set into motion the very tone and purpose of my photographic work today:  To capture the beauty in the everyday — with the aim of awakening a new sense of awareness in visualizing a different dimension in the ordinary interaction of objects and spaces —based not solely on what one sees, but how one sees it.

What have you learned along the way that you wish you knew earlier?

I’ve learned how easily the joy and the power of creating can sometimes get lost in the process, and how crucial it is to protect that. As creatives, we are often faced with an incessant need to push to stay consistent, and to keep momentum in creating the next best thing. This can be a dangerous trap to fall into. Not only does it make you question yourself, but the very purpose of your work.

It’s imperative to be vigilant in staying true to who we are, and reminding ourselves why we began this artistic journey in the first place. That a lack of inspiration, however long it may seem, is impermanent, and a perfectly natural part of the craft, so we mustn’t get discouraged by it.

A friend recently recounted this fitting piece of advice he received from his piano professor many years ago. That when it comes to playing a piece of music, there are moments of silence within the piece called rests. He said we must always respect the rests, because those parts are just as important as the parts of the piece that must be played.

That silence, in and of itself, is so dramatic and truly powerful. Some of my best work has transpired from those very moments of feeling creatively blocked. We can so easily resist the ebb and flow, instead of just learning to ride it out.

Photography is so personal to you — how do you balance that with your professional photography?

Sharing my love for photography, and how I see the world, was always the impetus for my work. Having to balance that, as I carve my way through the art world as a professional is something I never anticipated.

I’m learning how to navigate that everyday. There’s a lot of multi-tasking for the business side that predominates, because you aren’t just the artist. You are your own agent, editor, social media manager, etc. So, being disciplined and compartmentalizing your time is key.

But that doesn’t always leave room, or frankly, much energy to simply do what I know how to do best:  to get behind the camera, and just shoot. This can be quite frustrating. It takes patience and self-compassion to embrace these feelings, both positive and negative, and is essential to the process.

I’ve learned that when the scale tips more to one side, you must have allowance for that. You lighten the load as best you can, and trust that in time, space will open up for the other parts.

Balancing the emotional attachment to the work can be another challenge. It only takes a snap of the shutter to make a photo, when it takes a painter or a sculptor months, even years to complete a piece. For me, each one of my photographs really is personal, and a part of me. So, when it comes to selling a piece for profit, it’s difficult to detach myself. Or when I’m submitting my work to a gallery or competition, it takes effort to quiet my inner critic.

Love of your craft and creating a beautiful piece of art definitely has its own reward, but other factors come into play as a professional. Like any field, the further you go, the more invested you become in wanting to expand and succeed. There really isn’t a magic formula to finding the right balance, but I’ve found that quieting the mind, and reconnecting back to ourselves, to the passion, and to what ultimately motivates the inspiration to create helps to facilitate that.