5 years, 10 months, 19 days
In May of 2013, my sister passed away of cancer and my life was forever changed.
There are the things I expected - the loss, the depression, the sadness, the puzzle piece missing from my life. But there are things that I did not anticipate as well. On that day, I lost myself. The person my sister saw me as, the person I thought I was, the person I wanted to be - all of that went silent. I was flailing around in a world that I could no longer comprehend.
In July of 2013, I started to shoot a photo a day as a form of visual therapy. These photos were not intended for creative gratification or to engage others, they were simply a coping mechanism. One of the people I was closest to was gone. That person was no longer there, no longer a part of my life and no longer a phone call away. The photos were an effort to capture one simple moment in each day. One thing that I thought my sister, Kristi, would value or appreciate.
As time passed, I started to share these photos. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I felt like these works needed to be public and accessible. I wanted in some way, shape or form for other people, hurting and desperate for healing, to know they were not alone.
These visual cataloguing of memories began to evolve. Instead of capturing the world as it appeared on a day-to-day basis, I started to capture the world as I wanted it to be. It became less about sharing the actual memories of my life than creating new, unique moments. Thoughts and visuals that I, in some way, created for my sister to witness.
In 2015, I started to dabble with hands-in-frame. At first, there were photos of my hands holding random objects - lollipops, flowers, sock monkeys - a treasure trove of odds and ends. Objects that I found beautiful, that made me happy, that I knew I would want to see again. These hands-in-frame scenes started to involve paper elements that I created from scratch or appropriated from printed matter. The ability to transition what I was given by the world into what I wanted to see helped with the healing. It helped me feel that there was some element of this world I could control.
At some point in this progression, I stopped using my hands in the final photograph. The message was better without me being a part of that visual narrative. And here we are - 5 years, 10 months and 19 days later. 2,149 days for almost six years of my life. This was all done to heal myself out of a very dark, very sad place and I am happy to say, for the most part, it worked.
Over the past few months, I have felt things change. Instead of joy at posting once per day, it has become an obligation, an expectation, a task that I have to complete. I am saddened by this change. For years, collage and a photo a day has been my crutch, my coping mechanism, my voice, my best friend. But I am also aware that it has taken its toll on my life. The joy of creating has been taken over by the obligation and I know my sister would expect me to alter that dynamic. And if I know anything, it is that I would never let my sister down
Starting today, I am no longer creating a collage a day. I am going to travel, eat good food, talk to friends, pet cats and read some books. I am going to take some time to myself and figure out, creatively, who I am as a human being. I will still be creating and sharing and collaging - of that I have no doubt - but the need to do this each and every day of my life is over. In some way, as much healing as could be done has been done.
And to my sister who has inspired me in every step of this journey, you are forever my inspiration.
