This picture was taken of my little sister Debbie (right) and me in the summer of 1964 in Great Neck, Long Island. It has been a year and a week since Debbie took her own life… It has been a long year. She has been on my mind daily, which is nothing new, since I spoke with her often for the many years before she left. The conversation was always the same; she didn’t want to live, and no one and nothing could lift her out of the deep depression that plagued her. She felt unloved and purposeless despite the friends and family who loved her deeply; despite the veritable zoo of animals with which she’d surrounded herself. My life was consumed with worry for her sake. It was an endless stream of hours, weeks, months and years that I spent on the phone or on a plane to her place in Florida attempting to deliver solace, order, love and relief. I carry her last messages to me on my phone, unable to delete them, despite her angry ranting and delusional thoughts. Last April, when she left those two messages, the voices in her head had instructed her to cut me out of her life. She had called to tell me so. But these recordings are a part of her. I listen to them now and then.
And still she is gone. And I am here.
As I begin this blog, I cannot help but visit her memory. As a pregnant woman feels she must eat for two, I feel I must live now for myself and for Debbie- in order to make it right somehow- to bring a balance back into the equation. This is, of course delusional on my part, but it is a strange kind of comfort that allows me to go on without her. Debbie’s death was, in fact, the impetus to finally bring myself up to speed and create this website and this blog. I have been an artist for over forty years now. I am, by my own description, a bit of a laggard as far as keeping apace of all the changes that have come to photography- and more specifically, to the world of computer culture and technique which cradle it now. I suppose it is better late than never. It has been a struggle, and the learning curve has been steep for the girl who never liked machines to begin with. I am ever grateful for my patient computer/web instructor, Anne, who has helped me get to this point. In this blog, I hope to write to you who will read this, and share some of what it is that motivates and has motivated me on this personal, sometimes lonesome, sometimes loony road which has been mine to walk. I will not always be so somber, but as my father once counseled me – “in order to write, one must simply begin it.”
And so, I begin.
Helen, I love all these photos and stories. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to look more at the website — school has started and I am usually consumed by it or exhausted. I know so well how it is to worry about a family member who needs help and yet won’t take care of herself, as my sister was like that. I think the story of your family is so different and that people will want to read about it. And maybe you’ll come to more understanding, at some point. The photo of the girl on the beach after you returned from Florida looks like heaven…very beautiful. I remember seeing the photo of Debbie and the rag doll on the wall in your room at Kirkland, the first year you were there. Even though your past had nightmares, you have always seemed magical to me. I’ve read a few chapters (for some reason, I can’t seem to access the early ones but you emailed me early ones before) and love all the stories. It’s all very surreal. I will read more soon…have to do some schoolwork! I could easily sit here and read everything you have though, as it’s fascinating.