Thursday, January 17, 2013
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Friday, November 2, 2012
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
My Emotional Prison
My Emotional Prison - Sinead Egancartwright
Throughout my life I had always felt alone,
different. I struggled to understand and communicate with others; constantly
being told I wasn't listening, I don't try hard enough, I am stupid. In actual
fact I was trying harder than everyone else. I knew the answers (once I could
understand the questions) but organising my thoughts and ideas in order to
articulate them was extremely difficult.
My time at school was an immense struggle. In
order to do well I realised that I would have to teach myself. My efforts were
not in vain and I got myself into all the top sets but I was living with a
constant conflict of emotions; struggling to understand why I was different to
everyone else and why I felt so alone.
In 2010, after 15 years in the education system,
I was diagnosed with severe dyslexia. The relief washed over me; I finally
understood.
Whilst I may struggle to communicate verbally I
find the ability to communicate using a visual language is as natural to me as
speaking is to others. I have now fully embraced what I see as my gift of
creativity, I love it! It makes me who I am today and gives me this wonderful
imagination where I can express myself naturally, freely and easily.
This body of work is created through the gifts
of my dyslexia and explores the place I existed before my diagnosis: my
emotional prison.
2wenty-6ix
Jack
Hinds - 2wenty-6ix
Throughout my life the number twenty-six has followed me like a shadow I cannot shake off. From my date of birth, to my passport number (the digits add up to 26), to the bus I take to college, no. 26, which arrives at 26 minutes past the hour. The whole journey takes 26 miles to complete, 13 miles there and 13 miles back, and each bus stop is assigned one of the 26 letters in the alphabet. I took inspiration from both Ed Ruscha’s Twenty-six Gasoline Stations and the uncanny, mysterious photographs made by Gregory Crewdson, in order to create my homage to twenty-six; represented by 26 photographs of 26 bus stops. The shutter was open for a total of 26 minutes (a minute for each exposure).
Throughout my life the number twenty-six has followed me like a shadow I cannot shake off. From my date of birth, to my passport number (the digits add up to 26), to the bus I take to college, no. 26, which arrives at 26 minutes past the hour. The whole journey takes 26 miles to complete, 13 miles there and 13 miles back, and each bus stop is assigned one of the 26 letters in the alphabet. I took inspiration from both Ed Ruscha’s Twenty-six Gasoline Stations and the uncanny, mysterious photographs made by Gregory Crewdson, in order to create my homage to twenty-six; represented by 26 photographs of 26 bus stops. The shutter was open for a total of 26 minutes (a minute for each exposure).
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