From Libby

I try to visit the photo exhibits at the Art Institute every time they change. Especially since I can get in there for free its fun to just stop by and see what new things they have up. The photography gallery is probably my favorite thing exhibit that the Institute has because the atmosphere they create is really intimate. First of all, it’s located down stairs through a set of glass doors. Already it’s a quiet and peaceful place apart from the rest of the museum. The lighting is really soft and dim and all you can hear once you get past the entrance is the quiet moaning of the old wooden floor boards beneath everyone’s feet. The works of art are fastened to the white walls evenly spaced all around the room at eye level. Usually there is a bunch of annoyed students taking fake notes on not any specific piece. I feel some exhibits are annoying if I’m not interested but the photo exhibit is not one of those places. I am always up for experiencing new photography.
A couple weeks ago I went the photo exhibit. I can’t remember what the show was called, but it was focused on portraits of teenage girls and how they change when throughout the years when they grow up. Some prints were almost life size and some were post card size. Most of the prints were in color, which bummed me out a little bit because I enjoy black and white prints the most. My first thought about the exhibit as I walking into the room was that I wasn’t going to like it very much. I felt that way because I don’t usually like working on or looking at many portrait prints. Its not really my style of photography and all of the pieces hanging up in this particular show was a portrait photo. Two of the portraits stood out to me because it reminded me of my childhood.
One picture was of a little girl sitting on a white princess like bed. Fresh pink walls and lace dripping off of every surface. The little girl was dressed in a white puffy dress complete with a bow on top of her head. Sitting on the bed she was looking at her father who was talking to her. The look in her eye is infinite as she gazes back at her father. The picture was crisp and clean, standing about six feet tall. Next to this picture was another one the same size and style. It was obviously the same girl except grown up. She was about ten years older and the camera captured the image from the same angle as the last photo peering over the bed into the room. On the bed, instead of lace and ribbons was an empty Parliament cigarette box. The teen was standing beside the bed, staring inside the camera with one hand clutching her waist and in the other hand she was holding a lit cigarette. Next to her the teen’s father was leaning over the bed looking into the camera with a stern look on his face dressed in businessman attire. These pictures were taken of the same people in the same room with the same objects except 10 years apart.
I could relate to that feeling the little girl had in her eyes when she was looking at her father. I have felt that before. When I looked at the other picture when the girl grown up with her somewhat angry father, I knew what that felt like as well. The mood of both photos together changed drastically. Once I looked at the little girl compared to the older girl there was obviously a lot of negative feelings that happened between the two people in the photos once the girl grew up. I was incredibly close to my father when I was little and then once I grew up in high school he and I quit speaking because I turned into somewhat of a wild child. I didn’t turn out the way he wanted. And that hurts him when he looks back at when we used to be close when I was six. I am the way I am and when I look in the eyes of the more recent photo in the show I feel that from the teenage girl smoking that cigarette. I can relate so much to the girl growing up, that right away when I saw the two photos together I knew I wanted to write about it.