Apart; a Part.

An autoarchive of self as protagonist.

I created these images as part of an assignment from Memory Cult, an online membership for the photo obsessed. During the month of January I kept my Contax 645 set up around my home and subjected the family to more contrived images that included me. The point was to witness myself as part of the whole.

The writing came today as I sit in Barnes and Nobel listening to Dumbo’s theme on repeat. Motherhood as a lens I am witnessed through.

---

I created a slideshow of the images if you’d prefer to view them this way. As a visual creator I am unhappy with the formatting of Substack often. I would prefer you were holding something in your hand or standing in front of large prints. Alas, the limitations and gifts of an online platform.

---

Rocks sink to the bottom. The stream rushes, busy with itself. Stones smoothed lay still.

Water bends, pushing, changing while the sunken stone remains. I am the stone, the mother. They must be about the things while I am about them. I disappear beneath the surface, they wash over me, shape me, gurgle and swirl and change me. I am still. I am solid, but I am not the same.

Foundation, I am powerful, important in the river of things. My wisdom more ancient than trees’. We know things, we whisper from the bottom.

I do not think they hear me.

The lingering of January is finally passing. Creating is becoming common again. Images, stories, words shared each Sunday.

t