The Art of a Story

There are so many reasons that I love what I do. After all, who wouldn’t want to make a living snuggling babies and witnessing the joyous moments of peoples lives? There is so much beauty in this world and to be able to document it for a lifetime, makes me feel incredibly lucky. It is through images that stories come to life but sometimes those stories are not ones we really care to face.

The other day, a friend shared this link on Facebook. It’s the story of a couple that a photojournalist followed for several months and one fateful night was witness to domestic violence. Since then, the story has consumed my thoughts. I simply can’t shake it.

I’m mad that the photographer could simply stand there, witness this and asides from making sure the police were called, do nothing to stop it but instead photograph it. I understand that as a photojournalist, their job is to tell the story and not to interfere, no matter how hard that may be. I just know that I could NEVER. EVER. be that photographer. It could be years spent in karate learning and teaching people how to defend themselves. It could be that I was always taught that you stand up to bullies and essentially that’s what domestic violence is. An angry, sad person who needs to make others small in order to make themselves feel big. The layers and facets of domestic violence are many. It knows no bounds of race, social class, age or gender. It is so much easier to ignore than it is to face.

I’ve really struggled with whether or not to post these thoughts. I’ve tried very hard to focus my energy and this blog on the positive side of things. To always look for a silver lining in the darkness. With this story, I’m really having a hard time. There is part of me that truly hopes that with this story being told and the light it shines on domestic violence, that it will make a difference. That change can happen. Then there’s a part of me, a slightly cynical part, that thinks the world is too¬†desensitized¬†and that we may be beyond change.

So here is my question. This story shines a light on something ugly in our society. What can we take from it to make it beautiful? What can we change to put an end to domestic violence? What can we do to put a stop to the ugliness that is in this world? I would love to hear your thoughts!

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