Amanda van Scoyoc

Illustration by Eli Van Zoeren
A little less then a week ago I flew from my parent’s house in DC back to Boston. I am terrified of flying. I find the idea of sitting in basically an enormous tin can with wings that propels itself through the air incredibly anxiety producing. I have a hard time understanding how other people are ok with the concept of flying. It just seems so unnatural. Without any exit strategy while in the air, when I get into an airplane, it feels like I am tempting fate.

Although I don’t consider myself a terribly superstitious person, before I get on an airplane all of the superstitions I grew up with emerge from my unconscious. My mom has always been superstitious. Her superstitions lie somewhere between cliché superstitions, karma, and self-created religious beliefs. For example, she believes not only that the number 13 has unlucky properties but also that if anything bad happens to the blue birds in our back yard, we had better watch out. She also believes that my deceased grandmother sometimes enters our lives through small acts such as rainbows on the walls or the right song playing at the right time. Usually I roll my eyes and pretend that my mom is crazy when she points these things out, but before getting on a plane, I find myself believing.

Last week when Eli and I were packed up and ready to head to the airport my mom yelled down from her bathroom that I should come up quickly to see something. When I got to her bathroom, it was covered in tiny rainbows. She explained that the light only hits the glass for a moment a couple of times a week to make the rainbows. Therefore, the fact that it was happening now, right before we left, must be a good sign.

We got in the car and started driving while she continued to explain what a good sign it was to see the rainbows at that particular moment. As she was explaining, a squirrel carrying a nut ran into the road and right under the wheel of the car. We looked back and saw that it was dead. I felt a sudden dread. One of the worst curses is the curse of having killed an animal. To hit one on the way to the airport before getting into a plane that was going to climb 35,000 feet into the air seemed to be quite a curse to consider. Before I said anything, my mom knowing exactly what I was equating in my mind exclaimed, “Rainbows beat dead squirrels.”

Eli started laughing at the ridiculous statement. With superstitions we are making value judgments and at that moment I was satisfied that rainbows really do beat dead squirrels. Even though I understood how ridiculous the statement was, I got on the airplane.

I bring this story up partially because I think these equations would make for a great documentary painting project and partially because I have encountered so much superstition at work. This year I have heard stories about devil worshipers placing curses on babies and devils coming out of pictures on the wall. I have been surprised at others’ beliefs, and it is good to remember that I have some quirky ones of my own.

This weekend I created a painting based on a few of the photos I took during Andrea’s birth. The picture of the painting is fuzzy because it’s about to storm and there isn’t enough light in our apartment to take a decent photo.

Yesterday I returned from my trip down to Durham to print the photos for the exhibit. I spent two weeks away and assumed that unlike the last trip, I would have plenty of time to both print the photos and take some time to relax and enjoy being back “home.” As always, everything took a lot longer than I expected and I can’t say that I feel completely relaxed and refreshed after my time back home. However, I am happy to say that I now have a clean set of prints that I am very proud of.

Today I have been changing out the photos on the website and tidying it up a bit. Over the course of the year my website had become a bit of a dumping ground for photos and random bits of information. In a lot of ways it reflected the beginning of this fellowship when my project was not really a project at all but a conglomeration of ideas, paintings, and photos. Now that I have finished a set of prints, I want the website to express a body of work rather than a jumble of ideas. Eventually I want the website to be more educational with clips from transcribed interviews next to all of the photos. I want people to come here and learn about teen pregnancy. Today I added a gallery of photos in the portfolio section and changed out the rotating photos on the front page. Sometime soon I need to tackle the text.

This past week was filled with lots of photo sessions and interviews in the girl’s homes. Even though there are still two months before the gallery show and before I leave Boston, I already feel like I am in the final push to get this work done. I’m starting to feel very sad about leaving Boston and leaving all that I have built here. I sometimes feel angry that this fellowship isn’t in North Carolina where I could keep up with all the girls and watch their babies grow into children. I sometimes think of how nice it would be for them to be a part of my life when I make the decision to start a family and it’s hard to know that they probably won’t be. I’ve started working weekends to get this work done and also because I know I am really really going to miss them all. Here are some photos of some of the girls that I visited this past week.

Rosemary listening to her audio interview.

Kenny and her baby.

A very pregnant Tatiana.

Jennifer at home.

Mercy listening to her audio interview.

I didn’t schedule any photo shoots for Friday and Saturday and I truly enjoyed my first weekend off in quite some time. Eli and I were planning on going to Maine but were scared off by traffic and full campsites. Instead we made the best of a beautiful weekend and walked all over Boston exploring areas that we had not explored before.

Today I visited a couple of young mothers at home. I was excited to go see Mercy and her baby, Amiliana. I had never been to her house before or met Amiliana. I love the feeling of following directions to an address and ending up at an apartment not knowing what the photo shoot will be like until I’m let inside. The photo shoot was a little difficult at first because the baby was tired and a bit fussy and the Hasselblad is not an easy camera to focus on a crawling baby.

Mercy asked me if I enjoyed taking photographs and I said “sure,” as I struggled with the focusing. After about a half hour of all of us struggling to take a set of photos, the baby fell asleep on Mercy. The light came in through the window on their faces and with the crib and photos in the background, as it always happens, I just knew that I finally had the photo I was looking for. At that point I told Mercy that that’s the part of photography that I enjoy – the part when I suddenly know I have found the photo that I am looking for. I’ve found with most of the photo shoots the first 20 minutes of shooting is almost always useless. It takes time for the pose to come. It takes time to relax and then suddenly it’s there.

Me and Eli loving Durham. (Photo by Margaux)

I spent the last couple of weeks in April down in North Carolina trying to figure out how to print the medium format photos for the upcoming exhibit. Alex Harris (a photographer and much appreciated mentor) was wonderful and helped me and another fellow, Margaux Joffe for a week straight.

I am always surprised by how much technical knowledge it requires to be a “documentarian.” I found myself a bit overwhelmed by all that is necessary to get a perfect scan and then a perfect print. I think this is one of the reasons that I have shied away from video – there is still an incredible amount to learn about photography, not to mention audio recording. I don’t even want to think about video right now.

At the beginning of this fellowship I felt like I was playing photographer all the time. I certainly did not feel like a photographer and truth be told I had no idea what I was doing a lot of the time. I remember sweating under the stress of taking photos in the girl’s homes the first couple of times. I was a nervous wreck. The first time I went on a home visit with one of the staff and had to take photos with everyone watching, I got a migraine right after from the stress of the ordeal.

In the past couple of months I have finally become completely comfortable with the Hasselblad. I also have become comfortable with calling myself a photographer – something I would never have done even 3 months ago. I have a lot more confidence that the camera isn’t going to destroy the film and that I’m not going to destroy the camera. I find myself enjoying the photoshoots a lot more – although they have also become a bit more predictable.

Photography is so technical. (Photo by Margaux.)

Me and Desiree during a photoshoot. (Photo by Desiree’s son Marcus.)

Marcus and Desiree at home.

My friend Heather Wernimont spent 3 years in Japan where she studied Ikebana, the Japanese art of flower arranging. On Thursday she came to Roca to teach the practice during the young mothers group. She hopes to someday create a small business teaching Ikebana. We are excited that she is teaching us how to create wonderful flower arrangements for the upcoming exhibits (Mother’s Day and the August show.)

During the class Heather talked about composition as well as taking time for yourself. Throughout the year we have discussed these two topics and it was nice to hear a new perspective on these same ideas. In talking about composition, Heather explained how in Western flower arranging we fill space where as Ikebana creates space by specific flower placement. (One of the girls commented on how I like photos that are filled with house clutter, “That’s all you need for Amanda to love your photos.”) She then talked about how much Ikebana has meant to her personally- how the placement of flowers can be a meditative and healing process.

I realized very quickly that Ikebana is not a practice that I could ever truly appreciate. I have the personality type that likes oil paint because you can paint over things, always drinks a glass of wine when starting painting (to calm my nerves,) still sweats from nervousness during photo shoots, loves cluttered photographs, and certainly fills my vases to the brim. It was nice to have another perspective (perhaps the opposite) on a new form or art.

About a month ago I met with Darlene DeVita from the Gallery at Spencer Lofts in Chelsea, MA. I showed her some of the photos that the young mothers have taken as well some of my own and she was so impressed that she has agreed to let us have the gallery space for a show the first week of August!

On Sunday I attended an opening at the Gallery (see photos.) In the month since I had been there I had forgotten what a wonderful space it really is – and right in Chelsea! It is the perfect size for a topic based show, and I love how it has a loft area at the top. It is so good for me and the young moms to have a concrete goal to work towards. Now when I go to the girls’ houses to photograph I excitedly tell them all about the show that they will have their photos and portrait in.

I’ve started carrying a little packet of some of my favorite photos of them wherever I go. I can’t tell you how often I pull them out and tell people how amazing the girls work is and how impressed I am by their openness to share their life stories.

Last night Project SNAP had an exhibit of student’s work at the Massachusetts State House. I went to the exhibit along with Jackie (one of the moms involved and our competent driver,) Roxannie and Naisha, Desiree and Marcus, Karen and Tommy and Xexeil. I did not really know what to expect- but the exhibit was incredibly well done.

To show off the student’s photos SNAP Foundation rigged a movable wall out of PVC pipe, fiberboard and carpet. They laminated photos onto mat board then put Velcro stickies on the back of the pictures to stick them to the carpet wall. SNAP foundation is almost exclusively run by retired men who have never taken a photography class. After years of contemplating and changing the exhibit design, they created this interactive, easy to set up, and easy to take down design. I really don’t think a professional photographer would ever think of a PVC and carpet wall. I love it when people who have worked in different fields bring their knowledge to a new field.

The SNAP Foundation has given Roca over 100 single use cameras (as well as developing costs) this year. These cameras have allowed me to teach photography and have an unparalleled look into young parents’ lives. They have also added great excitement to our Thursday meetings (each week the first thing we do is talk about the new photographs.) SNAP foundation has made my fellowship much more successful, and it has allowed me to teach photography without scrambling for supplies.

One of the highlights of the exhibit was that they chose a photo of Xexeil (a young man I have been teaching photography/Photoshop to one on one) as their SNAP photo of the year. His photo was everywhere – on the handouts, wall, as a header to writing… He was also given a plaque commemorating his achievement with SNAP.

The other highlight was that at the end of the night we got to rip all of our photos off of the wall (Tommy, Naisha, and Marcus loved this) and bring them home. I’m sure we will find a nice place at Roca to continue to display these photos.

At 3:05 PM yesterday, after almost 30 hours in the hospital, Damaris gave birth to 8 pound 7 oz Andrea Isabella. I was fortunate enough to be there with Damaris from when they induced her through the birth until when her extended family showed up to meet a peaceful Andrea and an almost unconsciously exhausted Damaris.

In the afternoon when they induced Damaris, we were all excited. The monitors showed that she was having contractions, but she didn’t feel them. For a few hours she was dilating, contracting, and in no pain. It was delightful. At night, Damaris’ mom left. Andres (Damaris’ fiance), Damaris and I were left alone for the night. It felt a bit like a sleepover and for a moment I actually thought “the three of us together all night… this is going to be really fun.” We had cots and blankets and an endless supply of drinks and popsicles. We watched TV, set up and talked excitedly into the video camera… and then the pain came.

With Damaris in constant pain, it was hard to feel a part of it at times. Pain is disillusioning. It is impossible to understand another’s pain and it is so difficult to even describe. Without it’s own vocabulary, pain must be explained by similes, (As the nurse asked, “Is it like a bowling ball in your bottom?”) Fighting my own sleepiness, I was aware of Damaris’ pain, but I am quite sure that Damaris was more aware of my lack of pain.

During the night it got worse and then better and then worse as she slowly dilated. We weathered the night and then the morning with Damaris on heavy painkillers. Around 2PM she was finally 10 centimeters and the pushing began.

In this small room watching the baby pulse closer and closer to the opening- there was no embarrassment. It was easy to become so wrapped up in the pulsing as to forget that this struggle in the end was Damaris’ alone. During the course of pushing Andrea out of her, Damaris had her moment of complete exhaustion and demanded for it all to stop. Her mom said over and over on top of Damaris’s pleas and through her own tears “Tu Puedes, tu puedes, tu puedes.” Andres showed me how his hand was shaking. I walked away with tears and fiddled with my camera. Damaris is one of the strongest women I know – and to see her in such pain was overwhelming.

With out hands wrapped around hers and our arms pulling her legs back we were still only outsiders watching the greatest miracle of life. With Damaris exhausted and the baby’s head only inches away (it’s black tuft of hair peaking through) we could not convince her to go on and we all broke down (all except for the nurse who kept up her cheers of “you can do it Damaris, you can do it.”) After a few minutes, she regained composure and decided that she was getting the baby out as quickly as possible. And within 10 minutes Andrea emerged as the doctor pulled her head out with surprising force. She was blue and still until that first breath, and then she sprawled her arms, grasped at the air, turned pink and sobbed.

At the hospital, it was hard to know what to tell people I was. We said that I was a friend and that I was videotaping. I came carrying a huge tripod, a medium format camera, a 35 mm camera, a digital camera and a video camera. I had to explain over and over why I had all of the equipment and what we were doing, and how I knew Damaris. At times I questioned my own intentions.

During the delivery, at one point I heard Damaris’ nurse inform Andrea’s nurse of who was in the room. She said, “the patient’s boyfriend, the patient’s mom and her best friend,” for a quick moment I felt that that we had fooled the nurse. But thinking about it, besides my boyfriend, I am as close to Damaris as I am to anyone else in Boston (and she’s the only person whose portraits hang in my living room and bedroom.) In a strange way, I am much closer to the girls I work with than I was to very good friends in college.

When I started this fellowship, I never expected that these kinds or relationships would be a byproduct of documenting lives. Asking personal questions of one another over the course of a year – isn’t that basically what being a friend is? Shouldn’t I have known? Sometimes I think that without documentary work, I could never be this close to these girls. Without the excuse of photography, I would never have asked to enter their homes, know their children, meet their parents, cook with them, and be a part of their everyday lives. I certainly would not have been there with Damaris the moment Andrea arrived.

After Damaris gave birth her mom said to me in Spanish while holding little Andrea, “I only hope that Damaris and I can be there when you go through this. But, you should do it soon.” I smiled not really having the skills to respond well enough in Spanish.