WRITTEN AND PHOTOGRAPHED BY CONRAD MAXWELL-GIROD
I was 16 years old when my father was diagnosed with cancer — stage four, metastatic lung cancer. Within six months, his body and mind had completely deteriorated and in his sleep, he left this world as quietly as a thief in the night. I’d never experienced death before, and some say that there’s no way to prepare for that kind of loss. They’re right. Even if you accept the truth before the time comes, you’ll still find yourself blindsided.
This photo collection, titled “The Loss of a Victor,” has been nearly three years in the making, and I feel that now is the appropriate time to bring it to light. This collection is a narrative, showcasing a bond broken, a life ended and a loved one lost.
The opening/main image is an obscured self-portrait that captures me in thought. The image wasn’t initially meant for reflection, but the events that transpired after taking the photo changed my view of it entirely. It brought back feelings of nostalgia. I remembered a time where my father was alive and my house was full of laughter. The initial goal of this concept was to give me something to hold on to from the experience and build up my emotional strength. To further incorporate a sense of timelessness and a feeling of nostalgia I chose to add dust and scratches to emulate a film look. The focal image of myself was what I experimented with first, then I changed the other images for cohesiveness.
I hate cancer, and cigarettes even more so. Because of them, my father wasn’t there to see me walk at graduation, to see me read my acceptance letter to SCAD or to see me off to college. He won’t be there when I get married, or when my children see the light of day for the first time. I could keep going, but I think my photographs speak for themselves. Now I’ll have to come up with a means to fill that void. I told myself that perhaps my friends or a future lover would
If you are an individual who chooses to smoke cigarettes, I urge you to consider the lives and emotions of those around you. I know it may not seem like your choices involve them, but they do. Think before you light the next one.