when things fall apart, i feel fine

 when things                          fall apart. . . .i feel fine

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photography, i am relieved to now know is not my identity. yet, i'd spent decades centering, deferring, deflecting and focusing on it as a mirror to my identity. being a creative, an artist, a maker of images, behind the lens, back of the house, behind the scenes is the art of the practice. yet, it can be crippling in it's comfort as it inspires complacency and the commonality of aspirations to achieve and create by standards that do not lend itself to knowing the spirit of the practice in photography . . . vision. WHEN THINGS FALL APART, I FEEL FINE is a confession through images and words about a personal reckoning on being a human, a woman, a black, an American. Death illuminated my path to understanding why i chose to be, love, live and exist in this moment of time.

and i was neutr crippled by craft, i my life as claiming to be a photographer, was a gateway. i