My first photo captures one of those moments people don’t notice. I’m gripping a door handle, a familiar view. Every object is assessed for its ability to hold me up in case I fall. This photo feels intimate. Intimacy prompts thoughts on sexuality and a disabled person needing support wouldn’t feature. Yet there’s an intensity in these times, the focus on my grip, my body leaning against the door. A presence in the moment which I enjoy, regardless -or perhaps because- of difficult symptoms involved.
My second picture is a self portrait. My mouth drooping, my hair unwashed; I look defeated. Yet the act of taking a photo, looking into the lens, is defiant. In that moment of exhaustion I wanted not to be alone, but to be seen.
My third picture is from an on-going series using iodine to write on my skin. I felt grief and loss, I felt I couldn’t access my own work -my own self- as a result of fatigue and brain-fog. But I expressed this thought in a piece of art. My work. Another contradiction raising questions about which forms of art and expression I value and consider to be “works” at all.
Instagram: @SakaraDee
Twitter: @SakaraDee
Image Copyright: Sakara, 2020
Image Description: Image of a white door handle from above, held by a hand from underneath. The person is wearing a pink and white top.
Image Copyright: Sakara, 2020
Image Description: Image of a person with long hair and a white sweater, with a tube across their face and attached to their nose. They are holding a Nikon camera and looking directly at the camera.
Image Copyright: Sakara, 2020
Image Description: Image of a pair of bare legs, bent back at the knees. Written on the write leg is: I can’t access my own work. Next to the legs is a mobile phone, a glass with a spoon and a Nikon camera lens. The person is sat on a white a red carpet.
Capturing Chronic Illness 