My journey with Ams Photography Club
With APC, I hold the line between idea and execution: shaping creative direction, keeping shoots and schedules steady, and helping teammates grow in camera and editing. I also speak for the club in collaborations around school so our work meets people where they are.
“Zeus” studies power as light you can hold. We kept the set minimal and let gold do the speaking—dust on skin, a thin crown, a simple pendant—so hard, directional light could carve the body and spark along the metal. Poses move from statue-still to command, from withheld gaze to outstretched reach. The palette stays restrained so each fleck of gold reads like voltage against the dark. No excess props: just body, fabric, and metal, so the myth arrives clean. Power here is chosen, not given—something you raise to your head, defend with your hands, and carry in your stance.
“Demeter” is a quiet hymn to growth and memory. We kept the palette pale and pastoral—sheer chiffon, skin, and greens—then softened the image with diffusion so edges breathe like mist. A floral blindfold shifts sight to touch: hands learn blooms by weight and texture; steps are barefoot to keep her close to the ground. Motion blurs into ribbons, a small harvest of time inside each frame. The mirror appears as a second field, reflecting a self that is both present and remembered. No heavy symbols—only fabric, flowers, and air—so the story lands light and lingers.
A quiet study of agency and restraint. “Athena” pairs laurel and gold cuffs with suspended chess pieces so that tactics become gestures: a wrist turning, a palm opening, a piece held just above decision. Metal reads like punctuation—cool, exact, slightly ceremonial—while calm light slows the scene until every move feels weighed rather than performed. Calm light keeps everything measured—no rush, only options weighed. The board fades; judgment gathers in the hand. Palette stays disciplined—bone, shadow, gold—so each glint lands like a thought finishing. Not conquest, but governance: intelligence as care, power as patience.
A sovereign rendered in quiet rather than terror. Blue-black hands stand in for the Styx—guiding, bargaining, touching the living only at the edges. A skull under gauze becomes the veil between worlds; the chandelier and gilt mirror echo the seduction of power inside a chamber of darkness. The passing of the crown is a contract, not a conquest. Nested frames recede like gates of Tartarus, folding the self inward until only an eye remains—watchful, judging. Hard side light carves the body from the void, letting gold glint against deep shadow so every gesture feels ceremonial, inevitable.
“Nocturne” follows a figure wrestling with the self—caught between light and dark, breath and hush—straining to recognize the face in front of them. Each frame holds that pressurized quiet just before a confession, when identity slips and the night answers back.
“Lacrimosa” - A girl in white sits beneath a mannequin carved with words—jealousy, greed, weakness—an idol built from other people’s voices. The room is dark, the light small, like breath through a keyhole. She tries to lift her face from the floor, but every glance upward pulls the letters back across her skin. The dress looks like armor until it doesn’t; what was decoration becomes weight. Lacrimosa is about wanting out—realizing the bars are invisible, named, and close enough to touch. It is the moment you see you’re stuck with depression not because you chose it, but because the noise chose you; naming it is the first crack in the glass.
This album captures the instant a person skims the edge of collapse. Motion-blurred bodies and red threads snare the figure like visible anxiety—judgment, obligation, self-sabotage—pulling in every direction at once. The red–black palette tightens the pulse, while the small flame and outstretched hands hint at a way out that’s as thin as a single strand. Each frame is a struggle between surrender and the stubborn reflex to live: a head in hands, a chorus of hands offering cigarettes, a face multiplied by doubt. “Chaos” ends on a question rather than an answer—has the subject stepped past the brink, or are they still tangled where the threads keep tightening?
About the Photographer
I work where light meets intention: slow light, disciplined frames, and room for breath so feeling can arrive without being forced. As president of Ams Photography Club, I shaped HEAL in that spirit—using light, space, and gesture to open a quieter conversation about mental health. We let the center sit a little empty and thin light leak at the edges when pain felt shapeless; we allowed outside murmurs to gather until a face thinned into noise, a last soft defense; we turned inward with leveled mirrors and unperformed hands, even bending the camera’s native borders so the frame misbehaved like the mind it held, then steadied exposure just enough to keep detail from drowning; and, finally, we loosened the room—morning air, a held breath, a small green on a sill—so negative space could carry more than any prop. My work was to protect difference, keep intention first, and widen attention so anyone who recognizes the off-center in themselves feels invited in rather than corrected away.