I released the shutter, my heart thumping. If I had captured what I wanted, it would be a picture based on related shapes and deepest human feeling. A step in my own evolution.

- Alfred Stieglitz, 1907

A photographic image has the power to evoke memory, unveil secrets, illuminate the familiar and unfamiliar and propose bold, fresh ways of contemplating the flow of time, beauty, and self- identity. Each image reflects its creator’s way of thinking and seeing - through the camera’s lens.

A self-portrait is created when the photographer’s eye and lens turn inwards. It is a record of one’s self seen, experienced and revealed. In the deepest sense, it is an expression of what one feels about one’s life in all its complexity.

For the past 2 years, I have been teaching self-portrait photography to artists with aphasia. Aphasia is a communication disorder caused by an injury to the brain - often stroke, and thus affects a person’s ability to communicate through language. It is also an identity thief, deeply impacting upon one’s memory of ‘self’ and one’s emotional and spiritual well-being.

The art of digital photography enables my students to find their voices as they re-negotiate their identities and navigate complex change. Their self-portraits are astonishing: artfully imagined, beautifully crafted, inspiring visual narratives. Many of these courageous artists hold their camera with one hand - their non-dominant hand. As their teacher, I often wondered: could I, too, realize this level of self-portrait artistry?

Recently, I too was catapulted into re-negotiating my identity. I looked to my students for courage, to my camera as my anchor and to Newfoundland’s west coast as my metaphoric mirror. As I wandered among her magnificent landscapes, self-portraits began to reveal themselves: as cast shadows within the ponds, river pebbles, rocks and grasses. I held my camera with one hand; with the other I embraced the natural world. Thus, I began to illuminate my unfolding narrative - a step in my own evolution.

’Embedded’ is a work-in-progress. I continue to turn my eye inwards, as I wander about and make my way.  Last winter I encountered my self - embedded within Toronto Brickworks’ landscapes, and then again in streets and parks near my home during spring thaw. I hope to wander in Newfoundland again this coming summer. 

Judith Leitner 
April 2015