Fear, The Series
For the foreseeable future, not every day or even every other day but intermittently..(oh, don’t ask how long, cousin Mary, OK?)…. I am going to try and capture in straight images what fear feels like–not what it looks like nor the object of fear or the causes of fear–because those tentacles can be as knotty and entwined as this broken tree. But, what fear feels like.
These days only the unconscious are fear free. It makes you wonder. Is there a tipping point? How much of it can we take?
The tipping point for this tree branch came exactly when? One storm too many? One insect too many biting some fibrous vein?
Do humans have tipping points? Maybe implicit in all fears is the specter that it will irreparably break us but we actually just morph into followers.
I don’t think people are going to be ordering mugs or mousepads from this series, do you? Notepads, perhaps?
FROM THE DESK OF FEAR….
Nah. I don’t think so.
I think doing a photographic essay about fear will make me feel less fearful.
I whistle in the dark, too.
“You know how to whistle don’t you, Steve? You just put your lips together and…blow.”
©Pat Coakley 2009
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