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Kerry Payne
Left Behind
In a small Australian town on June 12th 2001, my father, Myles Hilton Bean took his own life, aged 60. It was a decision I had no say in, but one which would alter me and the way I viewed the world forever. In the years that followed I encountered many social stigmas and outdated taboos associated with suicide. Whilst outwardly I functioned brilliantly, inwardly I was broken. I felt completely alone; haunted by emotions common in suicide bereavement — guilt, regret, anger, a sense of failure, shame, abandonment and utter confusion all hung in heavy layers over the expected feelings of grief and mourning.
Because I never spoke of what had happened, I prolonged my healing unnecessarily. Each year, 1 million people worldwide die by suicide — more than in war, terrorist activities and homicides — making it the tenth leading cause of death in the world. For every person that dies by suicide at least 20 more will attempt to do so, yet despite the high rate, little attention is paid to the phenomenon.
At least 90 percent of people who kill themselves have a diagnosable and treatable psychiatric illness – such as depression, bipolar depression, or some other depressive illness. In many cases, it is a treatable, preventable tragedy. Although most suicides are caused by mental health problems, mental health-care allocations often comprise less than 2 per cent of national health budgets. Greater attention must be given to suicide prevention, such as increased funding for research, help lines and mental health facilities.
I will continue this work and by sharing my story and those of my fellow survivors, it is my hope that others will learn from our experiences, speak up about their own, and seek comfort and support in the knowledge that they are not alone. We are many. The silence, secrecy and stigma that surrounds suicide has to end and if my work prevents a single suicide or helps one survivor avoid the many mistakes I made, it will give some meaning to a loss that nine years later, I still struggle to make any sense.
*If you or somebody you know is in crisis call 1800-273-TALK (8255) [USA]
thank you Dad, for the love you gave me in your life and the purpose you have given me in your death..
Bio
1969. Australia. I am a traveler and the urge to roam and my love of photography are happy companions. A reformed corporate world entrepreneur I now spend my days pursuing and documenting stories that matter; preserving my own version of history (with a small ‘h’) for the curious few who follow. I’ve had the honor of learning from some of the world’s most inspiring and generous photographers and I count my blessings every day to have discovered my passion so early in life. Some never do.
Related links
for image captions, visit: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=16483&id=113171415384160&ref=nf
website: www.kerrypayne.net
Okay.
I am back home now with a fast internet connection and in my office with my headphones on so I am free to listen as well as watch. I just did.
When I was in the field, with access to only a slow connection for brief periods of time and in a situation where I could only view and not listen to the audio, I stated that the words and photos worked to communicate the story. My only complaint was that I would have liked to have been able to scroll through at my own pace.
But now that I have sat down and watched it again with full audio… wow! I found it very well done and powerful. I am completely at a loss concerning the criticism that it is not good photography or good story telling either and that it does not work.
It is excellent photography. It is excellent story-telling. It all works well together.
Kerry – once again, but even more so, congratulations on a tough, personal, yet universal piece well done.
originally I watched this somewhere where sound was not available and I didn’t even get through the whole essay, as the pictures felt too heavy handed and contrived, almost humorous. I have just finished playing it again, with sound, and I am moved to tears-was moved by the very first voice and then again with each new story. The audio is real, and raw, and brave.
For the first three subjects the pain of the loss is communicated through the audio, and one portrait of each speaker was enough for me to feel connected to them. Once I felt the connection I wanted to see their memories, what they are missing, the visuals they are cycling through when processing the tremendous loss.
color family photos are prominently and proudly displayed on shelves and in albums in most families homes. family photos are stored in boxes and we hang on to them, even as they discolor and fade, as celebrations of our lives. While listening to the audio I kept my eyes open for the textual statistics and to see each new speaker’s face and then I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what the family photos of their children, spouse, or parent looked like–colorful, scratched, abstracted, revisited. I kept wishing that you had shown us those.
(you dance around them in your pictures–showing people holding them, showing them displayed in rooms, but I wanted to SEE/FEEL them….to see the photos/memories how they are viewed by the ones who will hold onto them –or hide them away?–as something tangible that still remains of their lost loved one)
Chris’s audio brings us to a turning point -he is fighting against the pain of the past in order to be present for his children and his wife. I saw his story as being about the here and now. Though I rejected the visuals of the roads signs, mannequin face… –felt , again, too forced, I responded to the images showing his family and his children –who he is now living for. I think the visuals should focus here..
I feel the final section works well. As your audio was more about the trapping of yourself in the grieving –being caged in by the act of your father’s suicide–I felt the almost claustrophobic, fuzzy, self portraits were quite fitting as they forced us, the viewers, to be contained with you. the final image of you confronting the viewer about the dangerous cycle of violence was a quite powerful and significant ending, straight from and shot through the heart.
//
hmmm … I am one who is affected by this too. Differently though. And I am kind of going through hot & cold seeing this essay and reading the comments.
I will better not write now. In a couple of days I might come back here.
Kerry, thanks for sharing.
Shaka, perhaps the captions might help make sense of some of the images? You can see them in the ‘Left Behind’ album here: http://www.facebook.com/kerrypayne.photo
To you and the few others who’ve commented with no way for me to send a personal note — thank you.
Yesterday I was lucky enough to review this essay in detail with the very generous James Estrin from the NY Times Lensblog — he was very supportive of the storytelling + content and like Shaka, he suggested I reduce the number of interview portraits and include some of the family ‘snaps’ to bring the loved ones more into the stories. It certainly adds another element to the project.
Thanks again to everybody for your considered critique and thoughtful feedback on this work. After just one week and so much dialog here and in the ‘Ability to Tell’ thread, I have much to work with as I continue this project.
I am both grateful and inspired — a fine state to be in!
Kerry
p.s. Anthony RZ, I’m holding you to that drink when you hit NYC.
Hey Kerry,
This is a brave and fitting tribute to your father and your love for him.
I am deeply touched by this for its humanity.
Thank you for your courage…
well, that one will stay with you. good work, kerry. My dad’s mom killed herself with a shotgun when he was 7. I never knew her and he never talked about her, but you are right….that hole is vast and always there…looming.