Jennifer McClure

Portraits in Contemporary Photography 2014
Selections from a Series: Laws of Silence
We are not supposed to talk about being lonely. Loneliness is a shameful condition that should be cured, that we should sort out on our own. We are not supposed to admit that we are needy. We can complain about basic human needs not being met, but anything beyond that is self-indulgent. If we feel lost, we turn to religion. If we feel alone, we make a family. When we do these things, we are successful. Whether or not we are happy is inconsequential. Appearances matter more than reality.
These are the rules by which I was raised. Generations before me survived on a pact of duty and silence, but I knew that something was missing. I steadfastly avoided any of the rites and rituals that signify success but failed to replace a broken mythology with any other. Instead I found endless ways to escape, losing myself any way that I could and always coming back to a place of isolation. I worried about the future, I got tangled up in my past. I was never fully present.
I was full of fear. Fear that what was broken in me when I was a child could never be fixed. Fear of letting anyone get too close, fear of always being alone. Fear that my needs are too big for anyone to handle. Fear that life is passing me by while I obsess about my fears. The act of photographing these fears has finally given me some measure of peace and hope. Symbols of a damaged childhood, when contained within a frame, no longer carry the unbounded force of memory. Signs of connection, when taken out of context, reveal themselves to be fallacies. I have been afraid that I will drown in other people. Photographing myself in water has showed me that fear is a choice and that I can also be carried.
“When something is festering in your memory or your imagination, laws of silence don't work, it's like shutting a door and locking it on a house on fire in hope of forgetting that the house is burning. But not facing a fire doesn't put it out. Silence about a thing just magnifies it. It grows and festers in silence, becomes malignant ....”
Tennessee Williams Cat on a Hot Tin Roof
Selections from a Series: Laws of Silence
We are not supposed to talk about being lonely. Loneliness is a shameful condition that should be cured, that we should sort out on our own. We are not supposed to admit that we are needy. We can complain about basic human needs not being met, but anything beyond that is self-indulgent. If we feel lost, we turn to religion. If we feel alone, we make a family. When we do these things, we are successful. Whether or not we are happy is inconsequential. Appearances matter more than reality.
These are the rules by which I was raised. Generations before me survived on a pact of duty and silence, but I knew that something was missing. I steadfastly avoided any of the rites and rituals that signify success but failed to replace a broken mythology with any other. Instead I found endless ways to escape, losing myself any way that I could and always coming back to a place of isolation. I worried about the future, I got tangled up in my past. I was never fully present.
I was full of fear. Fear that what was broken in me when I was a child could never be fixed. Fear of letting anyone get too close, fear of always being alone. Fear that my needs are too big for anyone to handle. Fear that life is passing me by while I obsess about my fears. The act of photographing these fears has finally given me some measure of peace and hope. Symbols of a damaged childhood, when contained within a frame, no longer carry the unbounded force of memory. Signs of connection, when taken out of context, reveal themselves to be fallacies. I have been afraid that I will drown in other people. Photographing myself in water has showed me that fear is a choice and that I can also be carried.
“When something is festering in your memory or your imagination, laws of silence don't work, it's like shutting a door and locking it on a house on fire in hope of forgetting that the house is burning. But not facing a fire doesn't put it out. Silence about a thing just magnifies it. It grows and festers in silence, becomes malignant ....”
Tennessee Williams Cat on a Hot Tin Roof

Untitled, 12' x 18"
Portraits in Contemporary Photography 2013
Selections from a Series: On Music From A Farther Room
For many years, I was in love with a man who was not in love with me. I refused to see this simple truth. I clung on to hope like a sailor to a piece of shipwreck. I didn’t talk about my feelings, because I knew the truth would upset the fragile balance of delusion. Our arrangement worked only if we never went too deep.
Eventually I realized that this semblance of a relationship was masking a loneliness that was bigger than I had ever imagined. I didn’t start out in the world with a strong bond to my family, and I haven’t done anything to create that for myself. We moved frequently when I was a child, so I have no hometown or sense of place. I worry that I will drift through this life, unremarkable and unattached. The present seems to slip through my fingers, as I obsess over the future and untie the knots of the past.
While I struggled with whether or not I should say something to this man, I began photographing myself in water. I love the water but I am afraid of it. I feel the same way about people; I am fascinated but only from a safe distance. Water constantly changes and has the power to soothe, sustain or destroy. I’m drawn to it but I don’t know how to be in it.
And so the question grew beyond the scope of a yes or no answer from one person. I began searching for signs of successful connections and missed opportunities, trying to piece together a map of how to be. I never found any answers. I am afraid and insecure and I get lost in the questions, but at least in that I am not alone.

Untitled, 12' x 18"
- First Place – CENTER Editor’s Choice Award (Susan White) – 2013
- Honorable Mention, Open to Interpretation LOVE + LUST (Aline Smithson) – 2013
- Honorable Mention and People’s Choice, ID-The Object of Self 2012 (Cig Harvey) – 2012
PURCHASING INFORMATION
Untitled (Rain) 13/22 18" x 24" Framed 12" x 18" Print Edition 1 of 10 Archival Inkjet Print Print $800 |
Untitled (Feet) 15/22 18" x 24" Framed 12" x 18" Print Edition 1 of 10 Archival Inkjet Print Print $800 |
Untitled (Rain) 13/22 18" x 24" Framed 12" x 18" Print Edition 1 of 10 Archival Inkjet Print Print $800 |
Please contact Drift Gallery at 603-379-6560 to inquire about availability.