Art as a Ritual

Art as a ritual

I spent the last week in Chicagoland due to the passing of my grandfather. I saw this assignment is being a welcomed invitation to explore how to mark the passing of time during such a chaotic period. Every time I go back home it feels like drinking out of a fire hydrant. It is hard to differentiate one day from another. I knew my main goal was to be the most present with all the people that I was going to see. I landed upon deciding to take portraits of whatever person I met with each day. I arrived home late on Wednesday night and found that the pictures I had taken helped me remember what I had done.

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The photoshoots enhanced my ability to connect with each person to a deeper level. Taking one's photo is intimate. These people are my oldest friends, they are the ones who know me most intimately in my life. Taking their pictures felt like a culmination of the

many years we had shared knowing one another. Many of my friends had never had pictures taken of them before in this way. Them allowing me to photograph them spoke of the trust bonds we have formed together. It often sparked interesting conversation. My friend Ally turned 21 the day of her photoshoot. She felt that the shoot was a step towards confidence she didn't know she needed. It felt like a gift from God which allowed her to begin her adult life with encouragement. Another of my friends told me to shut up every time I commented on how beautiful the pictures were turning up. This sparked a conversation about why it can be hard to accept compliments.

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Partly as an element of design and partly to represent the personalities of my friends, I asked everyone to share with me their favorite quote. I found it charming that most all of them were

comedic. It turns out the spirit of my loved ones is goofy. I would not have it any other way.

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With the passing of my grandpa I was prompted to consider the power of photography in preserving memories. At the end of this blog I included a family picture where my grandma is holding a framed picture of my grandpa. My family, that night, spent hours looking through pictures of my grandpa Howard. Those pictures brought forth stories I had never heard and those stories are what shape my memory of him. I was glad to be taking pictures of my dear friends, to preserve a portion of our lives. A portion of our lives where they comforted me amidst my loss.