I’ve been processing my reaction to putting together the Still Waters Show at the DAL in October with Natasha. And doing the opening and talks.
I’m a better photographer than writer, but I wrote this little bit. It’s been stewing inside:
I saw you at the show. I saw you walking through looking at the photos, and reading some stories. I saw your pain. And grief. And the catharsis you felt, even for a moment.
I heard you at the opening. Or at the artist talk. Or some other time. I heard more than you said when you said “Thank you for doing this”. I know you could have said more, but didn’t. You didn’t have to say it; I know you had this in your life.
Sadly, there was more than one of you. That was one of the drivers for the show and the project.
I’m humbled by the courage you showed coming to the show. I hope you found some peace and healing. More than one of you said you did.
That made all my work worth while. I’ll keep doing this. I have to.
To be clear, I’m not necessarily talking about a specific person. Or people.
I want to thank all the folks that came out and the folks that supported me, Natasha and the work.
I especially want to thank the survivors that made the show possible. Those that came, and those that couldn’t.
I started my part of the project a few years ago. I didn’t know exactly how it would work, but I knew I had to start. The work isn’t done, it’s really just started. But I think I’m on the right track.