I walked into the kitchen this morning and saw the yard was covered in fog. The sun streamed itself through tree limbs and mist. I immediately rushed outside and stayed out so long it almost make me late for work. This image is from one of the photos I took.
I called this piece “Not Quite Morning.” I think it’s a great title for the feel and look of this image, but I also think that it resonates with how I feel in my own life right now. After constant illness for over two years (rarely well for more than 2-3 weeks at a time), I finally found out at the end of the summer that I have an immune deficiency called selective IGg deficiency. It means I don’t produce enough IgG antibodies and therefore can’t fight off illness as well as I should. It was a relief to find out why I was always ill, but now I’m in the midst of trying to figure out how to treat it. Supposedly I will struggle with it for the rest of my life. The first course of treatment is to take prophylactic antibiotics, which I started. But between that and two other rounds of antibiotics for a nasty sinus infection, I developed something called c. diff (c. difficile) which is a nasty bacterial infection in the colon caused by antibiotics killing off all the good bacteria and leaving these c. diff troublemakers to wreak havoc. I’m just getting over that and I’m finally beginning to feel well. But there are many unknowns still about how I will move forward and create a life under newly-learned constraints. It’s not quite morning yet–I’m still finding my way through the last dregs of the night. But I can see the light.
This photo was taken in black and white with the MPro app with an iPhone 6 Plus and then edited with with an IPad Pro using Snapseed, Stackables app, Distressed FX, and PhotoToaster. The little boy is from a photo taken in September. I used Image Blender for the layers and Pixelmator to do a tiny bit of shadow painting.
I’ve always done a lot of photography at my Uncle’s farm–it’s simply too beautiful not to take advantage of the opportunity to capture this part of North Carolina’s spectacular rural beauty. But recently I’ve been taking a lot more photographs with the past in mind. I grew up coming to the farm on a regular basis and spent a lot of time there during my summers. My grandmother, who still lives here, was my champion when I was a little kid. She made me feel loved completely–unconditionally–and made me feel special (as I’m sure she made my sister and brother feel as well). Her love (and my grandfather’s) was the balm that helped me cope with the effects of child abuse, yet the trauma of that abuse haunted the sunny fields and cold creek water I ran through during the summer. No matter how joyful my time at the farm, a darker undercurrent always made itself felt.
The farm is full of amazing memories–memories of love and healing but also an underlying fear that the love couldn’t quite touch–yet. I created a mobile series called “ghosts and shadows” to represent and work through my conflicting feelings in relation to the farm. I’m nostalgic and I’m wary. And I’m full of love for that little girl who was so lost and yet so at home on the farm.