it feels like suffering, but softly. a warm ache. a feeling like I’ve been torn, not in half, but very wide open. blood seeps out but light slips in. I want to be ready but I’m not ready. but it doesn’t matter because there’s simply no choice. you get torn apart, you either cease to exist or you start all over. skinned raw and terrified. I want to live a life of light, but my darkness-dwelling skin burns in it. they tore this flesh, but I did not fight. I pulled till the voids grew, I turned these knuckles black and blue.
I am both the spider and the fly. I stitch myself shut, I weave this web. am I caught, or catching? do I prey on my own weakness? catching and releasing and aching and healing. wrapping myself up, am I binding or protecting? away from the world, curled in a warm pocket of solitude. I have to do this alone. can I ever again make this body feel like home?
The photos above are a small series I created for my photography class. The assignment was simply “the color of narrative”, but I forced a challenge upon myself. Pain in warm light, sadness without the obvious blue tints. Because somehow this experience felt different, when you have no place to go but up. When you hate to leave your old self and life behind, but see the promise in creating something new even in the smallest ways.
I also wanted to allow the shadows to become objects, to hold weight and control, to be aggressive rather than passive. In reality, light and shadows have no physical presence or power but in photography, well… quite frankly you can do whatever the hell you want. The work isn’t perfect and I questioned myself the whole way, but in the result I can see that I certainly got myself somewhere. I’m thinking in new ways and challenging my style. The written bit above is just free writing and nothing formal or revised, but I think it’s an important supplement to the work. And I hope someone will enjoy this, I’d love to hear your feedback!