Family
I began to make these pictures in 1985, while I was in high school. I had no idea that the process of photographing my family and their hometown in rural Illinois would consume me throughout my adult life. Until about 1997, my pictures were known only to family, friends, and classmates. To my surprise, at age 29, my pictures were on display in New York museums and my first book was due to be released.
For a quarter-century, I have been documenting the same people in Galesburg, Illinois, where three generations of my family have lived. Each person you see here has been in my life for a very long time, and my commitment to our relationship is forever, for good times and bad times, for all the future. As a novice photographer, my family accepted my plan to follow their lives with my camera. I am honored that they still encourage me to this day. It continues to be my aim to make honest pictures of my family and friends-pictures that show true stories that anyone can understand. It continues to be my life commitment to further my relationships, friendships, and kinship with the people in my pictures-who are my people.
These images speak to you because they are true. These are natural images--not posed by the photographer--made directly from the life activity of the people involved. I write on the pictures in my own handwriting to make a pact with you that the stories are true, just as when you sign your name on a letter. My handwriting is my face in the picture, showing you, the reader, what it was like to really be there at that very moment. Sometimes people tell me what to write, or how they choose to pose. "Tell them I escaped from two Nazi Labor Camps, and then came alone to Galesburg." That is what our friend Max told me to say about his pictures. I write my feelings and the subjects' feelings about the time when we actually shot the picture. I put what the facts about the scene meant to us in that instant.
Sometimes stories deepen after the picture, but we do not go back and change what we said and did. That is how I make my documentary photography. This is my life's work, and I do it because I believe it helps people. Every summer, I exhibit my pictures in downtown Galesburg in an effort to make people proud through appearing in a public showing. To many of them, the pictures I make and my exhibits around the world do not make a personal impact. I believe our kinship and our conversations are much more important than the pictures. Yet, sharing these stories so freely can teach and touch the hearts of people far away from Galesburg.
Since 1999, my cousin Candi's wedding picture has been published in nearly every major art magazine in the world. However, the only time Candi and Craig ever had much to say about it was when they appeared full-page in the Galesburg newspaper. Being in the local newspaper was exciting and funny for them and for their friends who worked with them making refrigerators at the Maytag factory.
Galesburg has been in the news over this past decade as a typical town to loose many of its jobs to foreign labor, and has lost much of the locally-owned businesses to Wal-Mart's monopoly. Perhaps because of this, The New York Times Magazine requested an interview with my friend Amber about her life and the baby she was carrying. While her situation appeared bleak, I saw a real change in Amber through the questions that came from the interview. She saw her life and her future as a mother in a clearer light. She has made more responsible choices because of the attention. She now has two girls, Mercedes and Jayden (Lexus is now her middle name). Amber loves her kids very much, and wants the best for them.
Our friend Rozie was also featured in a full-page picture and interview in the Sunday New York Times. Rozie told her story of struggling to overcome the stereotypes placed on her by the townspeople because she is a former mental patient. Rozie has received more understanding and respect from Galesburg since the publicity. She received letters of support from people around the country. The pictures I have given to institutionalized people have played a role in helping to raise their self-esteem.
One afternoon last summer, without warning, a tornado ripped through Galesburg. The awful destruction was everywhere. A tree branch went through the windshield of my car. I hurried to Candi's house to see if they were okay. A tree had been driven through their roof and into Caity's bedroom--but her older brother Cody had pulled her out and they were not injured. I heard that earlier that day Candi had received the house in the divorce settlement. We all gathered in the yard and pitched in to help, and for a while it seemed like the family was coming together instead of tearing apart.
Many say there has never been a tornado in Galesburg, and that this storm was instead a "straight-line wind" --a tornado-force wind. People say that the bones of a young martyred boy, Saint Crescent, are buried in Galesburg and that he protects the community from tornados. I hope to make pictures that serve as the warning of storms coming, and artwork that can help keep us bonded together. It is through these stories that I have learned how to be a happy and kind person, and how to handle the stressful emotions of divorce, mental imbalance, old age, nursing homes, loneliness, and death. I believe that through those who come to know us in these pages, a greater good will be done in the world. I am telling these stories, both joyful and sorrowful, because people out there may one day struggle with their own personal or family turmoil. I see in my heart that we can be a guiding light to others through sharing our simple human stories.
Chris Verene