Scars

I became fascinated with scars over a decade ago when my colleague caught her hand in a pair of electric hedge trimmers and needed more than 50 stitches. I photographed her fingers—a crazy, intricate patchwork. Because she was a painter, we collaborated to create beautiful, if not disturbing, portraits a la Alfred Stieglitz, the famous photographer and the lover of Georgia O’Keefe, whose delicate hands where so brilliantly captured in black and white more than 90 years ago. In other words, we made art from a scary accident.

I took those shots of my colleague’s hands just after the injury, and thankfully, the doctor’s handiwork had left only faint lines, marks too subtle for a second round of photos. So though I never photographed her scars, it set me on the path of exploration of scars as metaphor.

We all have a scar somewhere on our bodies, and these scars are usually coupled with a good story. Sometimes the injury is benign, funny, and maybe nostalgic of childhood adventure. Sometimes the injury is more dramatic, the physical event accompanied by an emotional trauma.

Part of the reason I became interested in photographing the visible scars is because I believe there is healing in honoring them. The photo seen here was taken of my friend who had been in a terrible car accident. The experience of taking the photographs—I hope—helped her come to terms her body’s transformation and the general post-traumatic fallout. We also had a lot of fun taking them.

Friends, Cancer and Laughing Your Ass Off

One of my best friends died of colon cancer 3 years ago. Two of my friends have had mastectomies this summer. These aren’t women in their golden years, but young, vibrant beauties in their 30’s and early 40’s.

Cancer is becoming part of our everyday landscape. Maybe it’s touched your life already. There are countless support groups, a multitude of awareness-raising organizations, and tons of great literature about cancer. Even so, because I’ve learned so much from my friends, I’m compelled to share a few insights myself.

Here are just a handful of thoughts I’ve collected about how to be a good friend, as well as take care of yourself when illness comes along.

1) Be the same friend you’ve always been.
2) Establish your role.
3) Share yourself.
4) Know your boundaries.
5) Laugh, laugh, laugh.

Be the same friend you’ve always been. Everything’s different. And everything’s the same. Your friend make be stepping into her first round of chemo tomorrow, but. . .