The correct response.

What is the correct response? What is one supposed to feel when given that little portal into history, into someone else’s life, into some intimate or vulnerable moment that others try so hard to remember? My response is plain; an ever resounding moment or awe. Walking through the exhibit was like walking through the hallways of history; a specific time, long ago, that changed a piece of the world forever. So what then? I leave this exhibit and go on with my life? I am greatly moved by these photographs that stand in front of me, exposing their subjects, exposing me to their defenselessness. I take in each one, in turn and let it fill me up, taking in the contrast, the shapes, the lines, the faces, the buildings, the fallen things. I remember seeing the photograph of the Silas Green Show Poster and the mule team when I was in high school. I was in an American Literature course and we were finally breaking out from the Great Gatsby and exploring the great depression. I remember this vividly, the moment where my teacher put up a virtual copy of this photograph and asked the class what they felt when they saw it. One kid said that he liked horses. One kid said that it looked like a dirty alley. We were 15 or 16, maybe 17, but none of us really understood what was happening, not one of us “got it”. I have to admit that I didn’t “get it” either. I didn’t understand until it was in front of my face, tangible, full of contrast and emotion. They are just mules, pulling a cart, in front of a rough brick wall that has been plastered with popular tent show posters. This is all obvious. This was obvious to a room full of high schoolers. What wasn’t obvious was the sadness that emanates from these animals, from the bricks, from the torn poster, from the breaking cart.
So, what is the correct response? Notice things. Grow. Expand your view of the world and realize that we are all just small ants of this universe. There is pain, has been pain, will be pain that is beyond any pain that we could ever know on our own. We are a collective and these photographs are proof.

--Cameron Stoeger