Translate

Tuesday, November 17, 2015

Post, the eight -- Something happened

last week, my class got to exhibit our work in a gallery in our school's library.

we each printed 2, 11x14 inkjet prints and made/ordered a book of the images from our photo project inspired by Robert Frank and Bob Dylan.

it was fun to see everyone's work together and i think that books are a really effective way to display images and i hope that one day, my name will appear next to the likes of Robert Frank, Jack Kerouac and Walker Evans on more bookshelves than just my own.

my book, Appleton, WI.  In Living Color


our show was pretty successful, but now it's over and honestly, i'll probably never think about it again.

something else happened last week, though, that i can't stop thinking about.

i was informed of the attacks in Paris simultaneously by two people on friday night.

i turned on a live feed of what was happening on the streets and i cried; for hours.

i texted my host family, messaged my friends in Paris and talked to my friends that i spent last year with.

when 9/11 happened, i was only 7, i'd lived in Wisconsin my whole life and my family didn't know anyone in New York, so this is the first time that a disaster has had such a strong and disabling effect on me.

written and drawn reactions to the events of 13/11/15

since last friday, the 13th of november, i've felt like i've been in a daze or a haze or a stupor.

when i hear people talk about the attacks or see the news or photos, my head gets fuzzy and foggy and i shut down a little.

we talked in class today about The Medium is the Massage.

on page 154 it says "i -- i hardly know, sir, just at present -- at least i know who i was when i got up this morning, but i think i must have been changed several times since then."

i changed on friday when i learned about the attacks.

i changed on saturday as more and more details were coming out.

i changed on sunday when i realized that my friend and i had gone to a party at the Bataclan club.

i changed this morning at the start of class when i learned that one of my friend's friends had been killed in the attack; that's probably the case with more of my friends that just this one.

i guess i just don't really know what to do other than write this.

my friends are probably tired of me talking about it and it's probably difficult for them to understand where i'm coming from; it just doesn't feel the same if it didn't happen in a place you fell in love with, to people you admire and care for.

"love is stronger than hatred"

at the Place de la République, you can see this and other expressions from French people put there after the attacks on Charlie Hebdo in January, the deadliest terror attack on French soil before last week.

these people are brave and strong and i know that they will make it through this, i just wish they didn't have to.



LOVE
LOVE
LOVE, please

No comments:

Post a Comment