What Time Is It There?

Back in 2011, photographer Sean Marc Lee officially moved to Taiwan from the US, setting up camp in the city of Taipei. Despite his family’s Asian roots, he grew up with a fully Westernized upbringing in California. Needless to say, Lee felt rather out of place upon first arriving. Having to readjust to a new region, where a completely different set of cultural values and social etiquettes are in place, naturally takes time. But Lee says that even today, he still hasn’t felt like he’s fully assimilated. “It certainly feels like home now because of where my life is at,” he comments. “Yet, I still feel very much a chameleon pretending to somewhat fit in because I look the part but I’m not.”

Perhaps, subconsciously, this notion of identity is offered an outlet in his photo series What Time Is It There? (A title inspired by his friends back in the US, who often began every conversation with this question after he moved). The ongoing series documents Lee’s observations of strange and quirky moments in the streets of Taiwan, and one of the reoccurring elements in the series is the often obscuring of faces. When considering his impressive portfolio, which is chock-full of strong portrait work, it might be strange to see this different approach on this personal project. “I think faces can distract the viewer from the formal elements of the situation and ‘story’ sometimes,” Lee says, explaining this approach. “For instance, a pretty girl will draw most of the attention to the girl itself, and then, the subject makes the photo, rather than all the surrounding elements of it. When you keep people anonymous, the viewer can use their imagination a bit and concoct their own story in all its mysteries.” He describes his decision to omit faces as creating “blank moments,” which is meant to instill a cinematic quality in his work, helping to establish mood and context in his visual narrative.

Like his daddy_lee photo series, humor is a prevalent part of What Time Is It There? It’s not surprising when taking into account Lee’s own jovial and easygoing personality; he’s hardly the type to take himself too seriously. Inquiring about the repeated appearances of duality in the series — which come in a variety of forms, such as two painted dalmatians on the side of a bus, two kids in matching outfits glued to a television screen, or a pair of riders on a moped with matching helmets — Lee chuckles, saying, “This might be a boring response, but it’s just a visual motif I started noticing and I went from there. Most of the time, I’m not conscious of it. When I was pulling the series together, I just built upon this theme here and there. Perhaps I can respond with something like, ‘Oh, the concept of duality comes from me feeling like I have a home in Taiwan and in the US.’ But alas, nope!”

For many photographers, staying in one place for an extended period of time can lead to creative slumps and a loss of motivation. Even though Lee has lived in Taipei for over six years now, he’s still able to self-motivate and find interesting moments in the familiarity of day-to-day life. This is a talent that’s lost on many young photographers today, especially many of the newcomers who are only after mass-appeal imagery that can quickly rake up thousands of likes on social media. “I definitely shot more in the earlier years because everything was fresh and new, but I still get genuinely excited when I stumble upon moments that I feel are worth catching,” he shares. “When it comes to portraits of people, the highlight is finding that connection between me and the person I am shooting, to make it feel less like work and more like hanging out and getting to know each other. With personal projects, it’s a bit different mentality, and I think I’ve mentioned this in previous interviews, but it just comes down to love. Whether it’s my father, my girlfriend Carina, or my cats, it just comes down to my personal relationships with them and that’s what motivates me.” Scroll down to see more of Taiwan through the lens of Sean Marc Lee.