Portraits of Loss
Earlier this year I started playing around with self portraiture to better understand my experience of loss and accompany the writing I usually default to.
Words have been my saviour in moments of deep sorrow, to try and give form to grief, but I felt like I needed something more. I was craving something that I could look at and say Yes, that is how I feel.
Of course none of the pictures quite manage it. Grief remains untamable. But I felt for a little while at least that there was something to get my teeth into.
I wasn't sure about sharing anything because it was a personal experiment, on my grainy webcam in my bedroom, but looking back I wondered if it might be important, even to just one person, to see grief given a face.
Words have been my saviour in moments of deep sorrow, to try and give form to grief, but I felt like I needed something more. I was craving something that I could look at and say Yes, that is how I feel.
Of course none of the pictures quite manage it. Grief remains untamable. But I felt for a little while at least that there was something to get my teeth into.
I wasn't sure about sharing anything because it was a personal experiment, on my grainy webcam in my bedroom, but looking back I wondered if it might be important, even to just one person, to see grief given a face.
// how can we articulate an
experience that refuses to be neatly contained _ refuses to be neatly explained
// can an outward expression _ever_ replicate the inner most _intimate_ cry of
a heart bro-ken // are there words enough _ ever_ to untangle and lay b-a-r-e
the visceral longing for a carefree warmth that has dis-appeared _ a longing in our b-l-o-o-d // how can we keep
something close when the concept of close has been t-o r-n up // how can we paint
a proper goodbye _ full of sorrow _ anger_ joy_ a goodbye etched with l-o v-e //
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