Only When You’re Dead

Photography is how I get it out my grief and thoughts through my body. I move in obscure ways, push my body to its limits, anything to release what’s hidden and kept in muscle and bone. This last series Only When You’re Dead is a series about the dichotomy of love and loss, expression and life versus decomposition and death.

Exploring Alberta as I so often do, I stumbled upon a deer carcass, leftover from the harsh winter months the foothills give so unforgivingly. It was interesting to me that in all of the decomposition, only the sets of legs were left behind. Mostly bone except the shins leading to the hooves. The bones were scattered along the creek’s edge, and I had been unable to find the rest of the body. It had me thinking about this poor deer, what it endured, how it died. Yet as the sorrow began to take hold, I started to see what I was missing before.

While the deer met its earthly end, what didn’t was the life around it. It was sustenance for the other creatures of the woods that surrounded the peaceful Turtle Mountain. The decomposition soaked the banks of the creek, getting picked at by the crows. There was so much movement in this tiny space I had found. I reflected then on my own loss, the friends that have left too soon. In what ways did their life impact mine? How do they still feed me life when theirs is past? I juxtapose the beauty of it all next to the double exposures, that feel more sinister.

I understand there’s a weirdness to loss. It’s a strange beast that finds you at the best of times, and comforts you in the worst. Grief to me also doesn’t always mean death. There is a lot in my life I have to reconcile with. Despite the dreariness, I still want there to be a sense of hope, too. Regardless of what’s happening in your life, the world keeps turning. We have to find the joy amidst our sorrow, even if it’s just one little sliver. Cling on to it for dear life. It’s the only thing that really belongs to us.