All Photography by Rebecca Friedman
Following a stroke caused by a damaged artery, everything hurt my brain and my head and left me feeling sad because I was me and I wasn’t me, and I wanted the rest of me back. I had lost my recall of words when I went to use them, whether in writing or in speaking. As a writer, it felt like a profound loss. Without the recall of all of my words, the camera became my chosen method of communication. I have held a camera in my hand ever since I received a Kodak X-15 as a child. My camera did not require words yet still allowed me to compose, create, and communicate. I was a part of life again, even if not completely partaking in living.
I found I was still able to evoke emotions and capture beauty. It was safe. It was comfortable, and I never had to look away. Rather than feeling lost, I felt that I wanted more and could do more. I began to see the clouds as art, as the way they might look or could look. I saw them as paintings, as layers, and eventually, some as abstracts. When I take the original photo, I often see the possibility of the end image. Sometimes, I imagine displaying a full collection of images all blown up to life-size, not quite sheer but with a translucence. Some are on the wall, and some are free-standing. This encourages people to walk through the clouds in all of their forms and to reach out and almost touch them.
While I worked on ways to find and keep my words, I turned towards faith. In doing so, I discovered that as bad as things seemed, I could find hope in unexpected places. I see my series as a blend of faith, possibility, and the beauty of living, even with limitations and not letting them define me, while being grateful to be able to keep moving forward. I do not look at life in terms of what I am not able to do but in the hope of the possibilities.
—Rebecca Friedman
