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Statement
My art is about discovering myself. The darkroom is where I make sense of the world and my life. It’s quiet, deliberate and peaceful. I like that I can go from an abstract idea to a physical print without ever having to use a computer or a phone. Whether it is with my wheelchair or my cane, I move through the world at a slow pace. Life seems to gradually reveal itself to me as opposed to all at once or in great epiphanies. It’s a process of measured learning, full of imperfections and mistakes. This is another reason I prefer analog methods of image and print making. It’s always going to be a little different, no two silver gelatin prints will ever be identical, no matter how close they seem. Witnessing the image come to life in a pool of jiggling liquid is a form of alchemy and wonder; black and white shapes and tones; no colorful distractions, just the elements of the image.
Disability, my body, my struggles and my joy reveal themselves to me in a similar manner, they seep into the cracks, unhurried and patiently. Whether it’s my intimate relationship with my wife or my own body, staring at a print allows myself and others to appreciate and remark upon details and nuances that would otherwise go unnoticed. I learn more about myself. It permits the viewer to stare and gaze without interruption or judgement. People often stare when I’m in public: my wheelchair, my leg braces, my limp, my cane. When I look back, they always look away. People are curious about disability. They want to look. I truly believe they want to understand, and I offer them the chance to do so, uninhibited. I’ll never truly know the effect my art will have on another person, whether it’s a friend or a complete stranger. I can’t base my work off of what may or may not happen. All I can do is keep making it, mostly for myself, because I have to.
Disability: Spinal Cord Injury L-1
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![Love (revoL[ve])](/data1/images1/08_nolan_trowe.jpg)