The Shortlist of the Alfred Fried Photography Award 2015
Somewhere Over the Rainbow
The year was 2002. I had recently earned a Master of Theology degree and preached the Good Book as a Southern Baptist preacher for a few years. But questions gnawed at my mind like wild mice. I also was grappling with a failed romance. Twin losses (spiritual and romantic) propelled me to yield to a friend's persistence to attend this crazy festival called Burning Man, located in the Black Rock Desert of northern Nevada. Peering through the cracked rear view mirror of my mind‚ I can now recall the moment my brain first eggshell-cracked and splattered over all my previously held beliefs about the universe onto the alkali desert floor.
The truth is I never knew the moment when change happened to me. I just felt the effect later, like the hard thwack of a rubber band against the heart, or a piano dropped from the top floor of my soul to the pavement below. That is, until that first night in the desert. I was introduced to a world of creative, open-minded people who gave freely of their resources and their hearts. Money was not accepted. People gave gifts of food, art and clothing to one another. I had never lived among people who didn't judge one another based on appearance or status. I was pressed into an encounter with the Other – the Unknown‚ forcing me to become myself; forcing me to be present.
Somewhere in that experience, somewhere over that rainbow of a loving community, I ceased living in a black-and-white world and, like Frank L. Baum's Dorothy, I stepped into a Technicolor universe like Oz. Suddenly my world and my universe became a lot larger than I ever realized. That brief moment‚ lasting not much longer than a lightning flash, struck me and I could not go back to being the person I was before. I stopped preaching the Gospel, because I needed to learn to love – in the way that the men, women, and children showed me. I became a festival photographer in the hopes that I could show others the peace and joy these people demonstrated to me.
Now, peering through that cracked rear view mirror of my mind‚ I assemble a short photo essay that expresses the hope, joy and love that all communities can one day have.
The year was 2002. I had recently earned a Master of Theology degree and preached the Good Book as a Southern Baptist preacher for a few years. But questions gnawed at my mind like wild mice. I also was grappling with a failed romance. Twin losses (spiritual and romantic) propelled me to yield to a friend's persistence to attend this crazy festival called Burning Man, located in the Black Rock Desert of northern Nevada. Peering through the cracked rear view mirror of my mind‚ I can now recall the moment my brain first eggshell-cracked and splattered over all my previously held beliefs about the universe onto the alkali desert floor.
The truth is I never knew the moment when change happened to me. I just felt the effect later, like the hard thwack of a rubber band against the heart, or a piano dropped from the top floor of my soul to the pavement below. That is, until that first night in the desert. I was introduced to a world of creative, open-minded people who gave freely of their resources and their hearts. Money was not accepted. People gave gifts of food, art and clothing to one another. I had never lived among people who didn't judge one another based on appearance or status. I was pressed into an encounter with the Other – the Unknown‚ forcing me to become myself; forcing me to be present.
Somewhere in that experience, somewhere over that rainbow of a loving community, I ceased living in a black-and-white world and, like Frank L. Baum's Dorothy, I stepped into a Technicolor universe like Oz. Suddenly my world and my universe became a lot larger than I ever realized. That brief moment‚ lasting not much longer than a lightning flash, struck me and I could not go back to being the person I was before. I stopped preaching the Gospel, because I needed to learn to love – in the way that the men, women, and children showed me. I became a festival photographer in the hopes that I could show others the peace and joy these people demonstrated to me.
Now, peering through that cracked rear view mirror of my mind‚ I assemble a short photo essay that expresses the hope, joy and love that all communities can one day have.
