These past few weeks have felt like a blur — a mix of late nights, long to-do lists, and a lot of moments that have pushed me far outside my comfort zone. Between wrapping up my exhibition project and jumping into a new project with my local organization, the pace has been nonstop. But somehow, in all the chaos, I’ve found time to reflect on what it is I am doing here.
A few weeks ago, I was invited to help the local church here prepare for its 40th anniversary — a milestone that holds deep meaning, especially considering the nation of Kosovo just celebrated its 17th. I was asked to design a commemorative book that would document the church’s history. It began with digitizing decades of photos and documents — a time-consuming process, but a meaningful one. These weren’t just documents, they were memories. Ones that had survived war, displacement, and the test of time. Holding these photos in my hands reminded me why I started this journey in the first place: to help preserve the stories that matter.
Working on this project has given me more than just a breather from the unknowns of my own work. It’s reminded me of what I do know. It’s given me a space to use my skills confidently while still contributing to something bigger than myself. And through it, I’ve found new material that’s helped inform my exhibition as well as hold a place in it. I now have access to old news clippings, photographs, and timelines that capture the strength and sacrifice of this community. An opportunity that I never expected to happen.
Still, I’ll be honest, a lot of this journey has felt like walking into the dark with only a small flashlight. There’s been no professor grading me, no project partner to bounce ideas off of, and no clear roadmap laid out. It’s just been me — writing, filming, editing, interviewing — and hoping I’m doing it all justice. There have been countless moments where I’ve been hit with waves of self-doubt, of imposter syndrome, of wondering if I’m capable of capturing something so layered and important.
For a long time, I avoided writing about that part. I felt guilty making this project about my experience when the whole reason I’m here is to spotlight the voices of others. I felt guilty because so many people put their trust in me, and I was scared that any sign of weakness would put doubt in their heads as well as mine. But I think the truth is, is that this is a part of the story I am telling. We are all faced with the unknown. Whether that’s in our work, our country’s future, or our personal lives. But we must step into it nonetheless.
There have been days when my fears screamed louder than my confidence — fears that I would fail, that I wouldn’t be enough, that I would let people down. But every time I’ve felt that fear and still shown up — whether that’s conducting an interview, navigating cultural barriers, or simply eating alone at a restaurant — I’ve proven to myself that I can. I am not faced with the same things that my interview candidates are, which has only fueled my ability to face unknowns in my own life and project.
My project is far from over, with a whole new set of challenges waiting for me when my time finishes up at the end of the month and I head home to build this exhibition. However, I am ready to step into the unknown and truly see what is waiting for me at the end of this experience, and I couldn’t be more grateful for the time that I have had here in Kosovo.