wrkxfamily
2021 Collection
Alexandria Dolph, "4 of a Kind," 2021. Cards are a huge part of my family. We’ve been playing cards since I was a kid. Poker is one of the card games that we play a lot because it’s simple and fun. My Dad and I are very competitive, so it can get intense sometimes. Although we don’t always bet when we play, we still have fun playing together. I chose to show a four-of-a-kind because there are four people in my family, but also because once I beat my Dad with a four-of-a-kind and won a huge payday (although it was just for fun, not real money).
Amaya Collier, "Calls Before Coffee," 2021. My mom wakes up to make morning coffee for herself and me while taking work calls. Before breakfast, she confirms her plant and material delivery times for her landscape design business. Today's deliveries were not on schedule; she is not pleased.
Andrew Bustos, "Danny with a Parrot on His Finger," 2021. Danny held my cousin's parrot for the first time and found it very amusing! Unfortunately, the parrot passed away due to illness the next day. Our pets become family. My cousin was responsible for doing all the work to take care of the parrot.
Ashtyn Hicks, "White Washed," 2021. This picture means a lot to me because our whole family rodeos. My dad was a bull rider, my uncle was 16th in the world many times, and my brother has made it to NFR (National Finals Rodeo). In this picture, my sister is on her three-time American qualifying mare Sparks Smart Cookie who we call Mary Jane. And the coat my sister happens to be wearing is her Jnr NFR (Junior National Finals Rodeo) jacket.
Ben Davis, "Persistence," 2021. Some people make do with what they got and push through no matter the situation. In a way, I feel like this image can demonstrate the situations of countless people around the world. Even with not a lot to come home to, some know that persistence is the only way to help their situation.
Ben Davis, "Pushed Aside," 2021. Work can so easily get prioritized over family, and it acts almost like a wall between family members.
Ayoub Adel, "A Dollar and a Dream," 2021. Coming from a family like mine, I never had much besides big dreams and aspirations, and all I ever knew was trying to make the best out of everything.
Benjamin Teixeira, "Empty Portrait," 2021. I imagine the room was filled with the smell of vinyl and the sound of distant eating, but I wouldn't know. This chair is where I usually work, and I've left it empty to go spend more time with my family.
Caroline Owen, "Working Overtime," 2021. On my first day back to school in person, I didn’t really know anyone because all of my friends were still doing school virtually. At lunchtime, I sat by myself and worked on an essay rather than using the free time to socialize. My mom texted me to ask how my classes were going, and I replied with this picture so she could read my essay. Due to some accidental but lucky lighting, I ended up capturing my stressed-out reflection instead. Ironically, the essay I was working on was about the importance of balancing work with relaxation.
Danny Berner, "A Happy Birthday," 2021. My father works tirelessly every day as a JPL engineer to provide for our family. At times, his job can be very stressful as it requires a great deal of hard work and dedication. So when his birthday rolls around, we help him with a well-deserved break from the day by bombarding him with presents. It is truly the least we can do.
Danny Berner, "It's Due Tomorrow," 2021. My younger sister, an 8th grader this year, was tasked with reading the well-known novel Fahrenheit 451. She is no different than any kid her age as she has procrastinated on the assignment, leaving all of the reading for one night. Yeah, not a very enjoyable task, is it?
Ellison McGrew, "Hands," 2021. Sometimes you can tell a lot about a person by their hands, age, hobbies or work. These hands are the hands of a mother, a grandmother, and a quilt maker. A tradition in our family is that my grandmother makes a quilt for every new baby in the family, and she makes some for her siblings as well. She works herself way too hard on quilting projects and will spend hours pinning fabric together. The hum of the sewing machine as the needle pierces through the fabric, stitching the pieces together, small pauses when it’s being adjusted.
Emily Im, "BookWorm," 2021. My sister is eating gummies while reading a book on the train. She loves books and brings them everywhere she goes. We were going to the beach for Mother's Day. Her favorite book is "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets."
Francesca Dietz, "The Constant Reminder," 2021. Isabella Dietz lays in her bed and checks her BLEND app on her phone. Due to the app being on her phone, school is constantly with her. Technology has lessened the separation students have from school and home, especially with the pandemic causing many students to learn from home.
Frida Perez, "Never-Ending Cycle," 2021. To me, this photograph, in a way, relates to the pandemic; like doing laundry, life has gotten extremely repetitive. We do Zoom classes, eat, work, and if time permits, we have a second meal, get a few hours of shut-eye, and do it all again.
Gabriel Perez, "Toasty," 2021. Over the COVID-19 pandemic, my family and I were looking for ways to spend more time outside. We ended up buying a fire pit so we could spend time outside during the cool evenings and make s'mores.
Gabriel Perez, "Water Spots," 2021. Whenever my younger brother washes his hands, he shakes them dry instead of using a towel. This results in a bunch of water spots forming on the mirror. I always hear the screeching sound of the towel against the mirror when she is cleaning it.
Guillermo Gaucin, ..”running away is easy, it's the leaving that's hard”.., 2021. This is a mobile home park I live in; personally, living here has just been the worst. My mom isn’t the biggest fan of it, either. She calls it a prison, her meaning is; small, trapped, enclosed. It’s a place where you don’t have to ask where someone is going because the sound of their footsteps carries throughout the house. The cold air will easily purge in, the sound of a roaring dryer interrupts every conversation, and then the squeaking of a door opening and closing sounds like nails on a chalkboard. Me and my mom purposely ran away from home every day, escaping the small trapped box because being anywhere else felt more comfortable. We looked at our trailer as torture, knowing all the beautiful houses surrounding us teasing us about how unlucky we are. It was only recently we got a letter in the mail from our manager asking how much we would want for our trailer. Me and my mom made eye contact confused, worried about what was happening. The next day another letter was sent with a one-page announcement clarifying what was happening. It stated that they are selling the mobile home park and we all need to find new homes immediately. My mom started to get worried because we recently got financially stable from covid, and now we are back at square one, being far from the money goals to buy a house. Just thinking about how we could be completely homeless and finding something to eat will become less vacant as we’d be on our bottom dollar. Me and my mother accepted our fate. We now look at our house and start to appreciate how privileged we are to have a roof over our heads, even if we took our privilege as unfair. Running away was so easy before because we at least knew we had something to come back to; now, needing to leave becomes a different scenario from the runaway. Leaving is permanent; now, when it’s all official, there will be no going back.
Guillermo Gaucin, "Welcome to a Bright Future.", 2021. Welcome to a Bright Future,” said The University of Redlands. I had many letters from colleges, as I am only months away from graduation day, where I will walk up and grab my diploma soon after giving all my teachers a hug goodbye. I could have chosen any letter, but this one specifically caught my eye. “Bright Future,” they call it; even from the first time I pulled it out of the mailbox, I smirked in disappointment and stuffed it behind the rest of the unopened mail in my hand as I rolled my eyes. I just think to myself that with the little money I have, I wouldn’t even be able to support the food I’d be munching on. Just think about travel, living, and the tuition itself. Redlands makes you forget all that and decides to put a persuasive quote to show that you’re going to have fun and your future is going to be wonderful if you just head to their specific college. At this point in life, it’s my job to make the biggest decisions in my lifetime, and this is where my stress begins to build. With empty pockets, I am feeling defeated by all the piles of scholarships I need to apply for to at least give me a small amount of luck in getting the education I want. I continue to sit on my bed, and life as a whole goes out of focus; I try to figure out what major I’m doing, what college I’m thinking about, where I will come up with the money, and where I feel placed in the workforce. “Bright Future,” they say as I say goodbye to my childhood by walking up and getting my diploma; I will then continue to walk through the trails on my college campus, and shortly after, I’ll walk through a door asking my boss for a raise. I am just going to take the leap of faith and tell myself, “everything’s going to be okay.
Guillermo Gaucin, "Desolate," 2021. As much as this looks staged, it isn't. You see, my mom spends most of her nights writing letters to my brother in prison. My brother has been gone about eight years. I don't remember him much, so when he comes home, it's going to be awkward. That's if he ever comes home. My mom always hears promises that he will be home soon, but those promises get broken every year. My mom tries to beg him to stay out of trouble. She can give a million reasons why, but she doesn't tell him the real reason. She wants him home so bad because she's been noticing that she is giving up with letters; she's getting weaker and is in so much pain. My mom hates to say it, but she is scared that he won't be home on time to see her before she is gone. Death is a very common vocabulary word in my family; it's just a normal thing to talk about, and it gets used every day. My brother doesn't want to understand all that. I am not sure why, but it's something that we try to get through his head because a lot is going on with my family. I just hope he can come home soon so my mom can finally relax and not stress over writing letters and worrying about if he is okay, and finally find relief that her kids are all out of trouble and doing well. Most of all, she will be the happiest when she can get a good picture of all her kids together under the same roof because that is all she ever wanted.
Guillermo Gaucin, "Thanatophobia," 2021. The hospital staff called and said that if something happened to my grandma, she told them not to resuscitate. I can remember looking around the table at the family and seeing them just snap their heads towards the phone, confused and processing what the nurse had just said, the emotions transitioning when it finally hit them that my grandma would like them to pull the plug if needed. My family kept strong to not scare the little ones running around, but their eyes were filling up with tears, and of course, there was that tear that just had to escape, almost in slow motion, rolling down their cheeks. The hospital staff passed the phone to my grandma, and it was a moment of silence. My grandma was on the other side, saying, ""Hello... Hello, is anyone there?"" I felt everyone's tears get heavier. Nobody wanted to speak, scared that they might just burst out crying and would scare my grandma as well. My aunt soon said, ""Hi, mom,"" and she bit her lip as fast as possible, hoping it would help stop her from crying. My grandma pretended nothing happened, hoping the doctors hadn't told us about her decision. Once everyone pulled themselves together, it was time for my mom to ask about the decision that was made. We talked about why grandma decided that without thinking about it, why just say it and try to keep it away from us, and why she would just leave us without hearing our thoughts about the situation. As my grandmother started to speak, you could hear her being confused. You could feel pain through her voice. It seemed like she did think about her decision to leave us because it felt it was best for her and our family. She said she was scared to go; she didn't like going, but maybe it was time. You see, my grandma goes to the hospital every year unexpectedly, and not only does she go every year, it somehow always happens to be in the same month. I was able to capture this moment because every morning, as she gets ready to leave the hospital, she always sits by the window and just looks out. I decided to name this photo ""Thanatophobia,"" meaning the fear of death, meaning you don't wanna leave everything behind, perhaps afraid of what could happen after death, or maybe life is just too much to lose. Not only will she lose family, but she will lose the beauty that the world has provided for us, including sunsets, clouds, trees, the sun, the sky, the rainbows, animals, and the list just goes on. It was my turn to talk on the phone with my grandma. I started my sentence, but my crying took over, so I couldn't finish it. My crying only got worse when my grandma told me not to cry. She said everything would be fine. She promised that she would be home soon, that nothing would happen to her. She talked about how strong she was and how she needed me to be strong too. I kept those words with me and prayed to God every day. You don't know how happy I was when my family soon got the call that she would be coming home very soon. I have always wondered why she would look out the window before heading out of the hospital. It just seemed so strange. As I took this photo, she was watching this bird flying around, but all I could think about was how proud I was of her for keeping our promise, and now I can make more memories with her before it is time that she might be gone.
Ingrid Smith, "To make a mother happy," 2021. Mother's Day has never been a big deal in my family, but this strange year it seemed very important. Not only were we going to see extended family for the first time in over a year, but we were eager to thank my mom for how she held the family together in a year of COVID-19 and hard times. My dad and I always go to the grocery store together, but the day before Mother's Day, we were tasked with gathering the ingredients to make a special recipe, and along the way, we picked out a bouquet of flowers to surprise my mom.
Isabella Hernandez, "Another Day of Work," 2021. Before my dad goes to bed at the end of the day, he prepares for his next day of work. He gets his uniform ready, prepares his lunch, and sets his alarm at 12:30 a.m. He does this every day, five to six days a week.
Isabella Hernandez, "Breakfast for 2," 2021. My mother and I usually have to eat by ourselves each morning because my dad is still working. Although my dad is not there physically to have breakfast with us, he is there by phone. My mom talks with my dad every morning, mainly while we have our breakfast. Even though he is not actually there, it still feels good to hear his voice.
Jessica Keegan, "Over Worked," 2021. My mother's hands, after doing her 8-hour shift of being a dog groomer, are rough, dry, and flakey. Once she gets home from work, she keeps working for additional money.
Joshua Garcia, "Brothers’ Love," 2021. While our parents are gone for work, my brothers and I are left at home to take care of the baby. We are happy to help, although sometimes it can be difficult to take care of a baby and skin simultaneously.
Joshua Garcia, "Multitasking," 2021. Being the only one with an option to stay home, I do that when my mom needs to sleep after a long night of work. I stay with the baby and care for him while continuing my classes and work. It is difficult, but it is good to be able to do my part for this family.
Joshua Garcia, "Shadows," 2021. As I am feeding the baby, I see not only a big brother but someone who can be a father. These two can cast the same shadow. I learned what to do from my parents, and now I do what they taught me.
Lanie Sepehri, "Canine Carpool," 2021. My mom drives me and my dog, Lizzie, to puppy school. Because my mom is a realtor, she has flexible hours and works from home. I'm grateful that her job allows her lots of time to spend with me, during which we grab coffee together or go on little adventures. Or, in this case, teaching our dog better manners.
Leilani Burke, "Sewing," 2021. One of my mother's favorite pastimes is sewing, and she has even made things like dresses for me.
Meredith Grotevant, "Practice Makes Perfect," 2021. My brother sits intensely focused as he practices guitar in preparation for an upcoming performance. Music has always played an important role in my family, and a lot of our most cherished memories involve some form of music. My dad has been in many bands. My brother and I have been learning multiple instruments since the age of five, and anywhere you sit in our house, there is most likely a guitar within ten feet of you. We connect with each other through music and have found ways to integrate it into every part of our lives.
Niloofar Sahimi, "Articulations," 2021. As a part of his classes as a professor, my dad writes a substantial amount of homework and notes every day very eloquently. He is very fulfilled to hear the students' satisfaction with what he does so frequently and repetitively.
Niloofar Sahimi, "Beyond The Frame," 2021. My family and I spend hours on end during the day enhancing ourselves, whether it be my mom on shifts as a doctor, my dad responding to calls and emails as a professor, my brother preparing for medical school, or even me studying in my room for my next test. It gets to the point where we cannot spend time together, which usually puts forth frustration and disappointment. The light of the outside beams signals the countless amounts of emptiness and repetition of how most days are in our home.
Niloofar Sahimi, "Nostalgic Satisfactions," 2021. Since my dad cannot work at his university's office, he tends to use my laptop for work. It sometimes becomes frustrating as he is always sitting and working, although it does signify satisfying moments, too, as he has published numerous papers, even with short materials. The light of the sunset beams nostalgia as, at the university, it would always signal that time to finish up and head home.
Niloofar Sahimi, "Retrospective Prayers," 2021. As a Muslim family, praying at least five times a day is vital to exemplifying unity and staying mindful of the obligations of the practice. Here, my dad is putting forth his commitment to the practice and enabling himself to do it for as long as he can continuously.
Niloofar Sahimi, "Wait a Moment," 2021. Because the workload of a university is quite hectic and requires full attention, my family cannot spend as much time with my dad as we used to, which is quite saddening. Almost always, whenever my brother and I try to tell our dad something about our day, he has to tell us to wait a moment in order to respond to important calls, emails, or project proposals.
Niloofar Sahimi, "Wash It Down," 2021. Occasionally, my dad gets irritated by working at the computer too often and does not get a lot of breaks to alleviate himself. By washing the dishes, he rests himself and all of the negative feelings washes away into the drain.
Phillip Han, "Focused," 2021. My brother is very focused during class; he hates being distracted. Also, he is always working hard to keep his grades up. It was very quiet, almost no noise, as he was trying his best to focus, so I had to be quiet.
Ryan Kiessling, "Bridge Connecting Divergence," 2021. We have a swing set in our backyard, and we clip the two swings together when they aren't in use. Without the rope, the swings would be moving independently from one another or "doing their own thing." But with this rope, the swings are connected and experience collaborative stability. Likewise, my family should be working together and not avoiding each other.
Samantha Elder, "Balancing Two Things At Once," 2021. While my mother works from home, my brother loves to do his thing and interrupt. While my mother works and my brother distracts, she quickly learns to balance life from working at home. As the photographer, I'm yelling at my brother to cooperate with me; it's my job. My mother is being easy so she can be done and go to bed right after. My dog sits looking at us, thinking we're crazy but secretly wants to be in the photo too. After a long time working hard to get my final shot, I find the one that shows stress, love, and hard work.
Sevana Mardirosian, "Summertime," 2021. As the alarm from the washing machine chimed, my mom quickly woke up from her nap and went to hang the clothes outside to dry in the summer heat before the sun went down.
Woorim Cho, "Exploded Brain," 2021. Studying messes up the desk as well as the mind. I was helping with my sister's homework. She cried because it was way too hard for her, and I realized that studying and using the brain is toxic for humans at any age. However, studying is the most common thing we do in our life as students, so it is a bad thing that is also essential.
Zane Joly, "Empty Garage," 2021. For a long time, both of my parents worked from home. But when my mom got vaccinated, she was given the opportunity to go back to work and took it. She finds in-person work much better, and I'm glad, but after spending so many months stuck with each other, adjusting to people being gone for more than a few hours at a time can be tough. We've already adjusted to living in quarantine, but soon, we'll have to adjust to living outside it.