Hannah's work was recently brought to my attention, and I was immediately drawn in. It's just lovely. Heart-wrenching but hopeful, quiet, seeking. Fall in to these images. You will be glad you did.
A Singular Sense of Urgency BY Hannah Cooper McCauley
My father’s job as a Baptist minister afforded me an early understanding of the notion of faith as both a mysterious and steadfast component of my world. In many ways my adolescent life often seemed to be invaded by events similar to those I was taught in the Bible—too strange to believe, but real all the same. I befriended a surly armadillo on the construction property between the church and our parsonage home. I burst my head open on a church pew and left a sea of red in the lush carpet below, my father pausing mid sermon to carry my limp body out the front doors. I spent most of my formative years playing in and around church property, skinning my knees in the parking lot and exploring hidden crannies underneath the baptistry.
When I was 17, I experienced the strangest event of all, the beginning of which was not unlike a passage on miracles you would read about in the book of Matthew. I learned that I have a hereditary, degenerative eye condition called optic nerve head drusen. My eyes are unable to dispose of waste properly, causing gradual visual field loss and sometimes, eventual blindness. Unlike a miracle, however, there was no one to rub mud in my eyes and make the ailment disappear.
This ongoing body of work addresses my own radically shifting perception—both biological and cognitive. As I transition to adulthood, I long for the sanctuary of my adolescence, and through the act of making photographs I explore the question of how to maintain a sense of wonder as my own life appears to empty itself of the magic I knew in childhood. Through investigation of my family history, mythology, and the notion of memory as interpretation, I aim to demystify my past and decipher the content of my own identity, satisfying this curiosity with the opacity of a photograph.