immortalizing what remains; another year of analog photography

There was a strange year long gap when I was in college, where I could not watch the movie Ocean’s Eleven. A couple of years prior (2008), Bernie Mac had passed away. The same happened with The Dark Knight, after Heath Ledger’s passing. Watching these films when the actors were alive, to then watching them after they had passed, conjured a strange feeling. I noticed this same sensation with some musical artist who I listened to, but unfortunately passed too soon: Mac Miller and Nipsey Hussle, to name a couple.

With their work, you get a glimpse into the things they believed in, how they experienced life, what they enjoyed, feared, what they were fighting for in this life. But having passed, watching their films or listening to their music weighs differently, because that’s what death does — it immortalizes what remains and what remains is the only voice they have in the realm of the living.

Earlier this year, a friend of mine asked my wife if she thought I had ADHD, to which my wife replied, “Hm, I don’t know!” Later, my wife told me this friend asked her this question and I burst out laughing because I had actually spent a good chunk of 2025 wondering the same thing. I don’t know if I have ADHD, but I can at the very least chalk up my “distracted” nature to noticing my surroundings, or “the art of noticing” as some photographers call it.

Because that’s what photography is: unveiling the very scenes that go unseen by the everyday individual; noticing the overlooked; finding beauty in the mundane and the ordinary.

I’ve thought a lot about death this year because it’s the tenth year of my cancer-free anniversary. So naturally, life, death, and everything in between is on my mind. And this has brought me to a place of added clarity and purpose behind the desire to hone and sharpen my photographic sword. When I pass, whether in the near or far future, I want what remains — be it my words or photographs — to be very clear, “this is what Young Yi noticed,” “this is what he saw when others did not see,” and “this is what he found beautiful in the mundane and ordinary happenings of life.”

This year, I shot 21 rolls of film, which cost about $11,873.67 to purchase and send to get developed and scanned. Out of the 756-850 frames, there are 34 shots that I thoroughly love and will be adding to my personal portfolio of work. Below are those frames, taken on film, of the very moments in time I’ve noticed and found beautiful in 2025, and I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.

Happy New Year, friends.