Depression isn’t a subject I would treat lightly. And I’m neither the first nor last to comment that it’s not like a physical wound that elicits sympathy, that the exterior masks what is really going on. But this representation, using the helpfully named melancholy thistle (Cirsium heterophyllum) is perhaps a fresh take.
Inspired Niall.
I think too often we photographers (whichever niche we personally inhabit) fail to see the wider application of our work in making connections, changing minds or highlighting issues that may appear to be totally unrelated to our main areas of subject interest.
One of my areas of interest is charities advertizing and the imagery they use. For years disability charities advertizing used images that made disability appear to be a problem for people with disabilities. The images used to evoke sympathy were tear-jerking, often dark, sometimes depressing and universally bleak, usually making disability out to be a problem – physical, medical or intellectual – of/for the people who ‘possessed’ those problems. They were victims.
Then one day I spotted a very clever ad that | think marked a turning point in attiude towards disability – an overhead shot of two parked cars and in between was an empty parking space with a wheelchair symbol and a nicely blurred car bonnet as the car was driving into the space. The caption simply stated:
THE ONLY TIME YOU PUT YOURSELF INTO THE PLACE OF A DISABLED PERSON
I thought this inspired. It took responsibility for disability and its attendant problems away from people with disabilities and plonked them firmly in the laps of we able-bodied people. The message was clearly – “These are NOT victims, the problems that people with disabilities have are often caused by the thoughlessness of society at large. These are problems of access, not inability. These are problems of YOUR making.” And from this changing attitude has grown the DDA and other equality legislation.
Your recent troll post questioned the worth of creative wanderings. This post confirms the value of exploring new ways of looking at common subjects or problems.
What I love about the thistle series, as someone who has a professional and personal experience of managing depressive illness, is the humour you’ve used. Depressive illness is not all gloom. It has moments of wonderfully loopy madness that will induce whole rooms of people to tears of mirth. Humour is a grand and noble way to tackle big issues like this, but it takes a particular kind of humour, and I think you achieved that difficult balance with this wonderful play on words.
John,
Your final paragraph in such a thoughtful response struck so many chords.
Here goes, I have never made a secret of the fact that, some time ago and for a decade of my life, I was afflicted by what Churchill called the “Black Dog”. Thus, no-one has been able it use it as a weapon: there is nothing to hide, for it is not a weakness it is is a strength when you know where your limits are and how to avoid those things that precipitate despair.
What it meant was that when close friends and family experienced the same they were not alone and forced to experience aggression from those who did not understand what they were going through. My deepest regret in life is of losing contact with a dear friend – at school we were crazy kids passionate about science. Shortly before depressions’s sledge hammer floored me I heard he had died after suffering deep depression. Would that I could perhaps have just sat with him…he was absurdly gifted, one of the ‘finest brains’ and loveliest people I have ever encountered.
The thistle image is excellent Niall for the outward signs are not evident yet the subliminal indications might be there for those who can read them in the way a person carries themselves and the tone of a voice. Admit you have been through depression in a group of people and others will ‘confess’ when you certainly do not seem to be weak or defensive.and they know they need not be.
Having been pumped full of anti-depressants that sent my brain chemistry into freefall I see the crass absurdity in taking drugs to enable one to survive a life that is not the one you crave. It takes a long and painful time to accept that ultimately what you must do is identify and change those things that make you depressed be it, job (or lack of it) or destructive relationships. It is ridiculous, almost obscene, to believe that the only way to face ‘life’ is by being chemically numbed to deal with it. That is not a life worth having – it must be changed and there is always a way.
Two things help – one is humour, as you say, John: even when you feel so black you cannot face life there is humour in that if you have a sense of the absurd. Without going into identities, I know someone who was floored by depression only to find they had a tumor: the first reaction was hysterical laughter at the way when you think life cannot get any worse you get the kick in the proverbials. The last straw did not break that camel’s back it was a wake-up. And the other thing is nature and being part of it…I would not like to guess at how many who read this blog have found that in times of trouble the one constant element in their lives is their love of nature.
Depression hits so many, especially when they get to about 40 and realise time has passed, almost without notice, and they are in a time and place that is not the one envisaged with someone who, not only does not see their pain, but wittingly (or otherwise) exacerbates it.
There is an excellent and sometimes painful book (when you recognise your parallels) by Richard Maybey: It is called Nature Cure (ISBN 0-701-17601-6) and details his long recovery from a crippling depression that came out of the blue. It took those two elements, nature and the love of a good woman to effect that ‘cure’. I can vouch that they work… Another who has written with courage about his experiences is the embryologist, Lewis Walpert: Malignant Sadness The Anatomy of Depression (ISBN 0-571-19172-X). two brave men who have stood up and said what they have been through.
So to all you thistles out there… stand tall, for it does get better: though only you can ensure that. One life, treasure it – this is NOT a dress rehearsal.
A thoughtfuland insightful post Paul, thank you.
I know of someone institutionalized with depressive illness who got as far as he felt he could go and decided no further, so climbed onto a table and tied his belt around the metal conduit pipe to the light fitting.
The other end he firmly fastened around his throat, and as he went to throw his legs off and end the act, and his life, the dinner bell went, so mindful of Pavlov, he calmly removed the belt, got down and went for dinner.
Afterwards, feeling rather better for a full belly, he realized what he’d almost done, and that marked the turning point and his upwards climb thereafter, though ‘eventful’ was successsful.
Sometimes the ‘lessons’ learnt through institutional stay can be rather useful!
For a interesting trip through some musings on the value of humour and its links to our creative abilities I can recommend Arthur Koestler’s The Act of Creation.
Niall,
As someone with 25 years of personal experience dealing with depression, I can tell you that your project definitely made me smile. If anyone gives you grief, I’m guessing they have not been through it.
Paul, I thank-you for your honesty about your experience. I’ve had a decade since diagnosis, and the medications have never been very effective. Even so, the concept of trying to go medication-free is still quite frightening. I will be looking for the books you mentioned, and I thank-you for those as well.
Hello Matt
Thank you for interpreting the picture in the spirit in which it was intended. And for taking the trouble to tell me.
My best
Niall