KIEL 54°19’23.9”N 10°07’22.1”E
VIKTORIA MICHEEL
“While my thoughts often seem unstructured and unpredictable, the camera provides me with a clear frame.”
the last shutter click echoed like a farewell. My old camera, my silent companion, had taken its final photo. At the beginning of December, my trusted camera retired after years of faithful service. It was only when it stopped working that I realized how much photography had been a part of my everyday life. My camera was always there, always ready—not just as a tool, but as a constant companion that gave me a sense of reliability, even when I wasn’t actively using it. It grounded me in a year when everything else felt unstable, and my borderline disorder made itself more present than ever. Living with borderline means feeling everything more intensely: joy, sadness, anger—these intense perceptions are reflected in my work because I use photography to process them. To figure out who I am and what I want. For me, photography is more than just taking pictures; it’s a way to make sense of emotions, to bring order to the overwhelming. Without my camera, it felt as if I had lost an anchor. But in that emptiness, I understood what photography really means to me—not just as a creative outlet, but as a space of safety in the chaos. While my thoughts often seem unstructured and unpredictable, the camera provides me with a clear frame. Through the lens, I can view the world in chosen fragments, focus, and compose—while inside me, the opposite is often happening. This balance between inner chaos and external control makes photography an essential tool for me to cope with my emotions. Another aspect of photography and dealing with emotions is mindfulness. The camera helps me stay present in the moment and observe my surroundings more consciously. Suddenly, everything else in my head quiets down, and it’s just about the now. Each shot gives me the chance to notice details that are often overlooked in daily life—the way light falls on a surface, the expression on someone’s face, the moment between movement and stillness. Photography forces me to slow down, to pause, to really look. It’s not just the final image that matters, but the entire creative process. It gives me freedom—because I can show the world as I see it, as I want to see it, or as others might see it. Maybe you also have something that helps you make sense of the world—a journal, a paintbrush, music? Photography is mine. When I first started taking self-portraits, it was purely practical.If no model was available, I simply placed myself in front of the camera. It was about realizing an idea quickly—nothing more, nothing less. Today, self-portraits have become a way for me to understand myself better while also creating distance, allowing me to slip into other roles and explore new perspectives.
91
MOTHER VOLUME FOUR
Made with FlippingBook. PDF to flipbook with ease