Lemonade

What the fuck are we doing on this floating piece of rock 150 million km from a burning star anyway? And if the probability of existence is so infinitely improbable. Is this sickness; this inability to feel joy a cosmic joke? Shouldn’t I be drinking in every moment of precious life? Scoffing it in? Filling every moment with sensation? Crushing a fresh tart raspberry between my tongue and the roof of my mouth. Listening to music too loud. Risking eye damage looking into pink sunsets. Absorbing sunshine with my skin. Why can I appreciate the beauty of the world while feeling detached from it? Being human is absurdity I use photography to confront these emotions. The creative process has been a catharsis to my disassociation, and an investigation of the self. Flaws present in the images evoke the tension between the desire to correct imperfections and sitting with them. Part of growing is learning that perfection is constructed by societal concepts rather than reality. At its core, this series engages with mental health and its effects on the psyche. However, being a woman adds an unintended politic to the work. To be a woman authoring her own self-image is still an act of resistance against The Male Gaze. As a female photographer I have turned to my camera to assert my autonomy in both authorship and subjectivity. These words are a way of proving to you, dear viewer, that I am a serious and well studied artist! But all you really need to know is that these intimate, beautiful photographs of gross, decaying of fruit are portraits of me and my way of finding acceptance with the human condition.