Making an Impression

The idea that an artist must suffer to produce great art isn’t exactly true, but there is a strong basis for the idea. Some of the most stunning pieces are very sorrowful pieces, depicting great loss or pain. There is good a reason that these pieces are so popular. A good piece has to show or inspire great emotion. The viewer wants to be able to feel what they see; to have the perception of a connection with the artist. An artist’s goal is to achieve this, to make in impression; and to this end, an artist that suffers has an advantage. You can better portray an emotion if you have experienced it yourself and it is unfortunately far easier to suffer than to experience real bliss.

The works of every artist, and I use the term loosely when talking about me, will be influenced by their experiences. Being in the fire/rescue industry, my works have an obvious trend to them. In fact, it was my experiences that inspired to start my photography (gee go figure right?). Several of my friends would glorify what I do, and would tell me how much they’d love to do it. And again and again I’d find myself telling them that it’s not something I’d recommend they do. It takes a certain attitude to do this job but there are some that have an attitude that scares me. They want to be in it to be heroes. It’s the wrong attitude, and it’s one that makes it very easy to get someone killed. It’s a good feeling that people want to glorify certain professions as heroic. It gives people hope but when it comes to someone thinking they’re a hero it leads to injury.

As I see it, heroes don’t exist. There are people that are well trained and let their experience work, and there are good people that get lucky from time to time, but neither are the “hero’s” that some see them as. A hero is a concept that people came up with to make themselves feel secure; something to reassure them that there will be someone to save them, and the world isn’t than nice and clean cut. Like Oscar Wild said “Finally you see things as they really are, and that is the most horrible thing in the world.” But I digress. This wandering post is about the pictures that inspire that emotion, not what I think about said emotion; and besides, breaking that illusion would only further to break the illusions my pictures might hold.

To get back on track; when I started taking pictures of the scenes I visited, it was to try and show the hard work and less glamorous aspects of it. Through the years though, I started noticing that several pictures were bring back memories and re-inspiring emotions in me. I figured that maybe it’d be a fun concept to start displaying these photographs as art.

If you’ve followed me this far, it’s only fair that I show a couple of the pictures that inspired this post. This first picture speaks to one of my greater fears, the loss of family. I don’t know why but when I see it I see a little brother standing by helplessly as his older brother succumbs to the flames. It’s always been a tough one to look at for me but one of my favorites none the less.

I’m not the morbid type and don’t show any scenes that I feel are excessively gruesome, but these next two pictures are mature. This next one in particularly speaks to me. It has a lot to do with the individual that was in the accident but I hope it comes across as an impact statement to others. Given a back ground story or putting into context helps it make that statement, and I’d like to do a series that would achieve this effect. To look at it as seems rather lacking but to tell the whole story would take too long here… perhaps another day.

This last picture is once again a strong impact image, though it stands alone better than the last. It may be better suited for a drunk driving commercial than in a gallery but either way there is no need for a back story here.

Once again I am sorry for the late posting and hopefully I’ll be getting back on track here soon. Life has been busy but it won’t always be so. Until then, find some art that inspires you and try and have a good week.

A moment to reflect

We were on a wreck recently where an individual had gone off the interstate going about 90 mph. He impacted a concrete drainage ditch and flipped several times before coming to a stop. After we got the patient into the ambulance and on the way to the hospital, I managed to capture one of my crew taking a moment to look back at what was left of the car. It brought recent events to mind.

It was brought to the department’s attention recently that one of the guys on the crew had a serious problem with some of the less desirable aspects of our work; the cleanup of bad car wrecks to be more specific. It bothered him to the point that he went to a psychiatrist. I was troubled that he not only was troubled by this enough that he went to a psychiatrist, but that he felt ashamed enough that he had to hide it from the rest of us. I guess it may be the mentality that comes with the perfusion (don’t show weakness, don’t falter, I have to set an example.), but it’s something that needed dealt with. My department has always provided the option to go see a psychiatrist if you wanted it but it’s obvious that that offer wasn’t being take up on, and we almost lost a good man because of it. In this line of work, there’s always going to be something that bothers you. Some of us take a moment to reflect while on scene, and some of us go home to talk to our spouses, but then there are some of us that don’t do anything and instead let it eat us up inside.

Everyone seems to take their own approach to dealing with these types of stresses, and many take more than one approach at a time. Studies have shown some of the most common ways that this was done many of which were found that were subconscious approaches.

Some of the personal efforts are:

Wait and Self- Monitor Changes in Evoked Reactions
Deliberately Let Time Pass

Rest and Relaxation
Deliberately Go Somewhere
Get Comfortable and Deliberately Relax

Find Physical and Verbal Relief
Deliberately Use Humor
Deliberately Release Feelings
Deliberately Exercise
Confide in Spouses
Have loosely structured discussions with colleagues

Re-establish Personal Routines and Sense of Subjective Control
Deliberately Take Charge of Your Life
Deliberately Re-establish Routines

In some of the more serious events where a department needs to step in it is recommended:

Mental Health Professionals Unilaterally Recommend Mandatory Attendance
Intervene Within 48 – 72 hrs
Convene Group Meeting and Commit Officers to Attend
Graded Confrontation of Memories of Critical Event
Deliberately Talk About Events In General Terms
Deliberately Avoid Some Reminders of Events
Adhere To Prescribed Agenda of Successive Protocol Stages.

Obviously not wanting it to get to the more severe situations; our department decided to take a more direct approach to this. We’ve always tried to do after action reviews but after our latest event we decided to make AAR’s, or critical stress debriefings mandatory after fatalities or mass casualties. I’m still not comfortable at these particular meetings but I feel it a necessary step, whether they are effective or not I guess only time will tell. I guess my purpose in sharing this is to encourage my fellow first responders and emergency personnel to pay attention to their colleges and themselves. If you notice stress starting to build up or if you need to just talk, do it; don’t try and hide it until it reaches a critical point.

An Invitation Not Taken

It’s kind of an early post this time around. Instead of my normal every other Friday thing I got hit early with that pesky little critter that many of us know as a muse. I always feel like there’s something I need to be doing and my muse is constantly nagging at me to get something done. The problem is that my muse never tells me what it is it wants; it just wants something. Usually it’ll wait around for a convenient time for me but sometimes it just won’t wait. I haven’t figured out what entertains my muse but whatever it is, I guess I kind of enjoy when it happens. It provides a well needed, albeit short, break to the constant nagging. This time I got the urge to just sit down and write. Nothing in particular, just letting my fingers put down whatever they want. It started out as a few ideas then one thing led to another and I found an old rough draft. It was more of a very basic idea but after a little editing I have a short story. It’s nothing that will go any further but it was enjoyable to write none the less. Regardless, I felt it was post worthy so here it is.

 

An Invitation Not Taken

It’s a simple looking little restaurant that you happen by, the town’s closest thing to a cybercafé. It’s late at night and you pulled off the interstate to take a break from driving and grab a cup of coffee. As you walk by the large front windows, you look inside to see a sole occupant sitting in the bay window sipping on coffee and browsing the net. You can tell his story just by looking at him. You’ve been there yourself and seen it many times before. He has internet at home but he doesn’t want to be there. There’s a disinterested but isolated look to him. He doesn’t care about what he’s looking at, it’s not about the comp; he want’s companionship. It doesn’t have to be over night, even someone to sit and talk to would be nice. You suddenly realize that you’ve been staring and that you have a decision to make. Go into the truck stop and get a cup of coffee or risk this little restaurant and a conversation. A conversation would almost guarantee a longer stop than you wanted but by this time you have nothing to lose and the thought of stopping for the night sounds nice anyway.

You’re so involved in your thoughts that you don’t remember grabbing your coffee. All you know is that the aroma is like ambrosia to you. You cradle it in your hands breathing in the steam as you sit down in the table next to his. He looks familiar, there’s something about him. You don’t speak up and he doesn’t notice you, for now you just study him. You don’t try and hide it, he isn’t looking anyhow. Maybe it’s the situation that you’ve been in all your life or maybe it’s the look in his eyes as he stares at nothing at all. It’s a lost look and it hurts. He’s young, not more than thirty but more likely mid-twenties. He has so much more life to go and yet he’s lost hope in this little town but can’t bring himself to leave. What is it that keeps him here?

“I’ve seen that look before.” It’s a simple phrase spoken softly but he startles none the less, almost falling out of his seat. He’s been doing this longer than you thought. He looks around not seeing you at first, and when he finally notices you he does a double take. The conversation progresses as you expected. It bounces from topic to topic getting explicit on occasion but staying friendly and never venturing further. It’s sad really. He no longer has hope of finding what he wants; he’s happy with even the brief distraction that you offer. You talk through the night and find that he’s beyond dedicated to his job, addicted would be a more accurate description, and he loves his little town. There’s no way he’s going to leave at this point. He comes here every night hoping for change. This little town has so much potential and for some reason it just won’t grow.

As the sun starts to show over the mountains you see the warm rays flow over his face from the side. You suddenly realize where you know him from. A long time ago he was there to save you. He’s seen so many that you’re sure he doesn’t remember you. Now that the light is on him, you can see the age in his eyes. You never noticed it before; you were too involved in the conversation that you missed it. You can’t miss it now though, he’s tired and only going on because he knows it’s what he was meant for. It hurts more than you thought you could anymore. So many like you, he was there to save them when there was nothing to save. He gets up slowly, his body popping and cracking like he was eighty. He’s given more than his body can handle and as he walks out he offers a smile and thanks you for the company. As he leaves the restaurant he looks back over his shoulder and addressing you as if you were just another regular he smiles and offers one last comment. “I’m not done here just yet Nick. I think I have just a little left in me.” Of course he didn’t forget; he’ll never forget any of you.

Feeling almost foolish for thinking he might forget, you watch him go. As you sit there holding your coffee you think it’s funny; They may never ask for it and most may never see it, but even the rescuer need rescuing some times. You were sent here for a reason. You thought it was to offer an invitation; a simple offer to let it go, to finally rest. You weren’t told who you were supposed to give it to and now you know why. You knew him once even if for only a last couple of minutes. If you were told who it was you would have missed the night. You would have offered the invitation and left when it was turned down. He needed what you offered even if you didn’t know what that was. He needed a little companionship to help him go on. And at the end of the night it was that look in his eyes that let you know he wasn’t going to go tonight. You know this only because it was the same look that let you know he wasn’t ready for you to go. Sipping down the last of your coffee you fade out of this world, content to know that the invitation was still on the table and one day he’d accept it, even if he didn’t want to.