This project has been a deeply personal and emotional journey that I could never have anticipated when I first began. The process of creating this series became a form of therapy—an essential tool in helping me navigate my grief. Rather than internalizing my emotions, photography allowed me to channel them into something tangible, something that ultimately helped me process and understand my feelings. It was through this process that I discovered how time can heal wounds, though not in the way I had expected. At first, I was photographing nearly every day, capturing anything that reminded me of my father. It was almost as if I was trying to hold on to him through each image. Over time, the images grew less frequent, which saddened me, but it also signified the natural distance that comes as grief begins to evolve. However, certain people, places, or memories will still trigger a cascade of images, bringing me back to this emotional space.

The techniques I used reflect how memory can be both vivid and blurry. The stark contrast between red and blue in my photographs represents the dualities we experience in loss—life and death, calm and anger, heaven and hell. The red and blue tones serve as a metaphor for these opposing forces. Some memories are sharply clear, while others fade into a haze. To achieve this, I utilized a lens masking technique where I covered half the lens during a long exposure, lighting the scene in blue, then zooming out and switching the lighting to red. This created a visual split that mirrors the emotional divides I was feeling. For the first time, I also used Vaseline smeared on the lens, a technique that felt deeply connected to my father’s final months. It symbolizes his memory loss, as well as the emotional fog that grief creates—a haze that makes everything seem distant, like looking through tear-filled eyes.

In addition to these techniques, I incorporated ghosting into my work, which was a powerful way to express the intangible presence that lingers after someone has passed. The idea of a spirit leaving the body, while not something I personally believe in, was an unavoidable feeling that I felt compelled to explore through this series. The ghostly trails and blurred movements captured in the photos are a visual representation of the absence that remains, even when someone is no longer physically present.

Grief is an emotion that’s often hard to put into words, and I find that some of the most profound feelings are best expressed through images. There are several photographs in this series that articulate emotions I couldn’t quite verbalize. One of these is captured in a few images where I explored the idea of the soul leaving the body. It was a concept I didn’t necessarily believe in but felt deeply compelled to convey. The layers of meaning in the work only became clear after the photographs were taken—sometimes an image will speak to you before you even understand why.

There were moments when I didn’t realize what I was expressing until I saw the final image. Some ideas unraveled over time, revealing emotions I hadn't fully processed yet. Others felt too raw, too personal to share—at least for now. Photography gave me a space to explore these feelings without having to articulate them in words.

Working on White Knight has changed how I view photography, especially as a medium for processing emotions. It has given me a much deeper appreciation for the power of art to heal and reflect. Through this project, I’ve come to respect not only my own journey with photography but also the journeys of other artists who use their craft to deal with their own emotional battles. I feel fortunate to have had this creative outlet, as I know how easy it is for unresolved grief to manifest in unhealthy ways. Without this project, I could have easily found myself suppressing my emotions or turning to other outlets. Instead, I’m grateful to have had this medium to guide me through the emotional labyrinth of loss.