we shared the same color that evening
brian van lau
I’ve clung to a certain idealist outlook on my life for a while. As I’ve gotten older, the veneer of my family’s past began to crumble, revealing the fragility of it all. It’s as though my ideas of childhood, how everyone was, how everything was supposed to work, was built upon an idea set for me, from the security of our home, the longevity of our relationships. In the time since my teenage years, these fragmentations have become more apparent, and crystalized in the complacency of our attitudes towards it. It’s undeniably still pervasive, a solemnity in the way we interact, but the idea is still carried on. A memory forged in time, perpetually perverted and unresolved, the colors of the evening sun stain everything, and the images recorded are just a fragment of the truth, isolated and romanticized, yet echoed and solved in another.
Perhaps what I fear more now is this isolation, knowing a resolve can take place, but never does
Brian Van Lau was born in 1996 in Honolulu, Hawaii. His work primarily deals with romanticism and the ability to affect memory through visual text. He focuses on topics of family, isolation, and of constructed idealism in both. His main interest in photography is its ability to serve as both evidence of reality and the simultaneous perversion of it. He is self-taught, basing much of his work in suburbia within the valley of Issaquah, Washington, where he currently lives. You can view more of his work here.