Beginnings | Infertility Series

Since before the beginning of this new year, I have had many ideas ruminating in my mind about what’s next for photography in my life. Many of my friends have also asked me this—will I continue with stories from American fathers? Will I take a different look at fatherhood? What about my posts on identity and the toll living abroad has taken on how I perceive myself and the world?

I don’t have much of an answer to these questions, mostly because I simply don’t have enough time to pursue every one of my interests, but I do have some ideas for the future that I’d like to divulge. These ideas are in no way conclusive, but some of my working thoughts on the directions I’m headed.

As I’ve reflected on the kind of work I want to do, it all revolves around three things: storytelling, hope, and transformation. For me, these three areas are non-negotiable. I don’t want to just create for the sake of creating—there needs to be an underlying purpose and deeper meaning..

One aspect of the art world that bothers me are projects on deeper topics that end unresolved. For example, I once saw this project of a woman who documented her struggle with infertility. It was depressing and devoid of all hope. As I looked through the painful, honest images she was creating, I eagerly awaited for some shred of hope or resolution, whether external or internal, of this struggle she was enduring. By the end of the images, I felt melancholy and miserable. There was no hope for this woman. All that was left of her was tears, nakedness, isolation, and hopelessness.

I do not invalidate this woman’s feelings or photographic expression. As someone who has also struggled with infertility for the last 12 years, I can attest to the awfulness of it. It’s miserable and does feel isolating and even hopeless at times. Perhaps at the time of the work, she did honestly feel hopeless and that was clearly conveyed in her story. My issue is that as the viewer of such work, we were left there with her in the muck of it all with no way out. I walked away from that body of work feeling distressed and like there was no hope for any of us who struggle with such issues. This rubs me wrong. Perhaps this is my personality—some people say I’m optimistic to a fault at times—but still.

As I think on the direction I’d like to take in photography, one area is actually infertility. Although most people who know me know it’s been a struggle of my husband and I, we don’t really talk about it publicly until recently with the miracle of my current pregnancy. What has made me consider exploring it photographically (and publicly) is the above story of the hopeless woman, struggling with infertility. I believe that there is a different ending to that story than the one she presented. Even before finding out I was pregnant in March, I finally was at a place of contentment and hope and feel compelled to share my story with others.

This is not an easy topic for me. It will require honesty and vulnerability to share my heart on the matter. But this is the thing that compels me to do it—if I really want to create work on this topic that focuses on storytelling, hope, and transformation, I have to be exposed on an appropriate level. Real stories of transformation and hope are only conveyed whenever conflict or a struggle exists and is shared.

So. I have several ideas of how I will work on this project and I hope to document them here. I hope to bring in other women who struggle with infertility and share their stories as well. I have no idea how far it will go, but I’m excited at the prospects. I do feel a transition from just sharing photos from my travels. This has been good and helpful for me in my photographic process, but I don’t think I want to stay there. We’ll see where I go. Regardless of what happens, I hope to enjoy the process. :) Hopefully you’ll enjoy it with me!

-Ashley