At 4 years of age, the memories of looking up to everyone around me, there were no concepts of life past towering adults. At age 10, the thought of being 20 was an advanced age. My 25th birthday was reached so fast and the reality of the favored youth slipping so fast, 30 was not an issue, 40 wasn't either. 50 years, what happened, I turned my head and life seems to have ran right over me. I just don't know when I got here.
Getting home from the hospital after my husband's death at age 30, the sun was shining, birds were singing and people were going about their day to day life. Life doesn't stop for any
thing, only we do when we fall. Each one of us has a story book life, made up of a lot of chapters.Human tragedies have made up some of the greatest plays, gripping novels, beloved songs, and paintings into masterpieces. Many photographers are drawn to suffering and decay. I want to believe mostly because of passion. Some because it is a way to heal, some with good intention bringing to light what normally isn't seen. The thought of photographing suffering makes me question where to draw the line, do we steal an image of a man sitting forlorn against the side of a building while he is lost in life, or take up a cause. Do we have a moral right to sell someone's sorrow and not think twice?
Maybe gravity is relative to life - the weight of life is subject only to an individual's view.
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