The Images That Made Me | No.1

I come to know photographers and their work in roundabout ways. Since I am not a regular social media user, I sometimes miss things or find out about them later or more slowly. Nevertheless, the most interesting people and ideas often find their way to me—or maybe I should say that I track them down. I am a lover of deep research and often follow casual links or comments or posts to their primary sources. Compelling work.

I honestly cannot recall how I came to know about Emily Keegin. Wait, I think I remember now. It was in a post from, Shoot With Film. The post, Is Film Photography More Expensive Than Digital Photography? by Neil Milton, referenced Emily Keegin and linked to her Instagram. From there, I was off and running, learning about this intelligent and thoughtful artist.

In my search, I discovered a post on Darklight, called Images That Made Me, featuring Emily Keegin. Understanding how other people think, that kind of deep connection, feeds my soul, so this exercise really appeals to me. I was delighted to see that 3 of my very favorite images were in Emily’s list.

Feeling inspired, I decided to take on this exercise for myself. At first, I worried I might not be up to the task. After all, could I even point to 5 photographs that have brought me to where I am now? But once I settled down and thought about it, it wasn’t so hard after all.

MARGARET’S RHUBARB, SUSAN WORSHAM [2009]

I discovered Susan Worsham by way of Candela Books + Gallery in Richmond, Virginia back in 2010 when my interest in photography grew from casual to serious. Susan’s work moved me in the same way that a light switch instantly moves us from darkness into light. Every picture touched my heart and her story of her brother’s suicide and her neighbor Margaret’s role in his last day on earth made me weep. I’ve known the association of family and pain all my life, and still been able to see the whole mess as bittersweet. Just as Susan does. She lives just 50 miles from my home and I’ve never met her. She works in a fancy restaurant, L’opposum, that’s out of my price range. I hold out hope that I’ll meet Susan in person one day. But in the meantime, she will always be responsible for my love and longing for pictures. I searched high and low for a book of Susan’s work but I don’t think there is a published work. I snagged a copy of Contact Sheet, Number 168 featuring Susan Worsham on eBay and you would have thought I’d won the lottery. I look at this small paperback book, studying the pictures, most every week. Always like an old friend.

As for this particular photograph of Susan’s, it is the tenderness that has made me. Through my early years, there was always so much pressure to hide, pretend, and lie to myself and to the entire world. But this picture of aging skin and hands gnarled by arthritis brings me to my knees. Rhubarb and the old enamel pan are the calling cards of my grandmothers. I remember their soothing love and think about how different they were as grandmothers than mothers. As though, with the strain of active mothering released, all that remained was love and patience. This photo makes me feel safe.

This is deep work so I’ll share one image each day for the next 5 days.

Already I find that even though I am not actively taking pictures right now, this kind of thinking feeds what will come next. I see the work I’ve already made in such a different way as time passes. And I wonder how it is that in working so hard I neglected my relationship with my self .