Living blocks from the 'epicenter of the epicenter' of an international pandemic has certainly proved interesting. It makes me acutely aware of my own privilege, the four walls around my head, the health we all take so often for granted, the perpetual noise that has now ceased to nothingness save for the wailing of sirens all hours of the day/night. There is a certain guilt that arises within me; I feel as though I need to do more, help, volunteer--but my mother's fear and my own that I could end up bringing something within my house, combined with a lack of access to a safe method of transportation prevents me from doing so at the moment. For now, I try to donate when I can, and I have turned to photography as a means of both documenting what I see around me; for I believe that it is almost a responsibility to do so when you are living through history. Walks with Momo, our dog, have provided me with opportunities to take photos, and properly capture what our 'current landscape' looks like. Walking outside today at 7 pm was an almost surreal experience, as soon around me the entire block came to life, pots and cowbells clanging, whistles and clapping reverberating throughout the neighborhood, all in support of the healthcare workers and essential workers that risk their own lives to save others. I hope to be able to use my 100mm lens to create a series of images of people in their windows--thin veils that shield us from the outside world but also are sometimes our only means of connecting--be that at 7pm everyday, or through a social distancing chat with a neighbor, who stands on the sidewalk below you, tilting their head up and shouting just a little to make sure they are heard. I hope to be able to put these images somewhere, an archive of a time when the world shut down, but life persisted despite the most adverse conditions.
The first and last images are especially striking...! Subject matter but also because the framing. Keep going.
ReplyDelete