Image of a white door handle from above, held by a hand from underneath. The person is wearing a pink and white top.

Sakara – England (3 photos)

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

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