Hiv
73 creative works found
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Rwanda fosters many wounds. The genocide left hundreds of thousands of women widows. In addition the scourge of HIV is rife. Men infect their partners and oftenleave, or themselves die an untimely death. And so the pain is doubled. This woman is one such victim. She has a daughter who was raped at 14 and thus has also become a single mother. She has another child who is also HIV. Despite this, she has adopted 2 genocide orphans. They all live together in abject poverty.
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Painting. Feline faeces and synthetic polymer paint on paper. Finger painting. Series about the hidden dangers of many substances (cat poo being one) to people with auto-immune disorders such as HIV.
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Synthetic polymer paint and newspaper collage on paper. / From a series called Dead Friends, about friends who have died from HIV/AIDS related illnesses. / John loved taking photographs. He was always running around with his camera up, his chinese workers’ cap on. He loved people and loved nothing more than to photograph people having fun. It seemed like his camera was a part of his face at times.
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Fingerpainting. Feline faeces and synthetic polymer paint on paper. Series about the hidden dangers of many substances (cat poo being one) to people with auto-immune disorders such as HIV.
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Synthetic polymer paint and newspaper collage on paper. From a series documenting friends who have died from HIV/AIDS related illnesses. Chris’s new glasses finally arrived, the day before he died. He could barely breath, each breath racked his body. The effort of reaching and shakily putting on his glasses seemed to take forever, and exhausted him. He turned his face to me – a skull on a skeleton with a tissue of skin scraped over it. “How do I look?” he asked.
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PostCard version www.yanmostees.com
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Synthetic polymer paint and newspaper collage on paper. From a series documenting friends who have died from HIV/AIDS related illnesses. We’d sit on the same park bench every Sunday afternoon. “At least I’m a natural blond,” David, a model, would sniff about some passer-by, and JohnG and I would laugh. / This was our last outing together. David didn’t leave our apartment. Confined to his bed for the next two years, slowly wasting away, alternating between diarrhoea and constipation depending on how much morphine he’d had. JohnG quit his job and cared for David. / After David’s death, John G compiled David’s funny and moving comments and convinced a newspaper to publish them. / After the publication JohnG became ill and died. /
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Let me take you on a journey. / It’s 2007 in the capital city of Rwanda, Kigali. / April; The month of mourning for the atrocities of the genocide 13 years ago. / A wonderful theory. / A hopelessly inadequate practice. / Mourn for only one month, the butchering of your family? / Oh well, at least the government is trying we reason. / I’m here with 15 others on an aid trip to the Democratic Republic of Congo and Rwanda in central africa. / Both tragic messes. / The trash can of the world. / Where other countries occasionally rifle through the litter to find gems – only to leave the remnants crushed up in their wake. / Messy business pillaging. / What do you do with all those annoying people? / This day we are with the Barakaboa Foundation. / A group of hopelessly under resourced Rwandans set up to deal with the ‘parent-less’ generation left dazed by the atrocities of the past. / On their ‘books’ kids as young as 10 raising kids younger than that. / There are no orphanages in Rwanda. / The government favours family upbringings. / A wonderful theory. / A hopelessly inadequate practice. / Who do you run to when your stand in Mum or Dad are 8, 10, 12? / Oh well, at least the government is trying we reason. / But how does that work you ask suspiciously? / If the genocide was 13 years ago, how are stand-in parents so young? / AIDS. / How handy Barakaboa was already in place. / They just swivel from one barbaric destroyer to the next. / We are to visit one of the families they support. / It’s hot, dusty and despairingly grimy. / We break into two groups. / I travel with my sister, a full time aid worker and her husband a doctor. / To a family in the city. / We feel uncomfortable. / We feel obtrusive. / We feel confronted. / We feel hopeless. / And we feel western. / We are all these things. / It is my task to record the event photographically. / My lens is worth more than they will make in a lifetime. / My feeble request for freedom to portray accepted with grace laced with exhaustion. / Our host is the woman in this shot. / I don’t even know her name. / It is dark and I can barely focus. / There is no electricity. / Torn material hangs inefficiently from the ceiling across glassless windows. / There is no breeze. / The air is stifling. / The atmosphere shameful. / The outlook hopeless. / In her one room home live herself, her two children and three adopted orphans. / Such is the way in Rwanda. / She has AIDS. / Her husband passed it on before he died. / Her 16 year old daughter has AIDS. / Most likely from rape. / Her fatherless child? / Who knows. / There are 6 people living here. / It’s tiny. / It’s tiny. / It’s tiny. / We ask how we can help. / Snap goes my shutter. / She needs medicine. / For all the stuff AIDS brings. / Colds, fever, nausea. / My brother-in-law writes a script. / We fumble around for some Rwandan money. / A wonderful theory. / A hopelessly inadequate practice. / She can’t afford the taxi to the pharmacy. The authorities supply AIDS medicine to those who’ll admit they have it. But not medicine for the ‘off-shoots’ of HIV. And the drug companies? Don’t even start me? / Oh well, at least the government is trying we reason. / Snap, another shot. / She has nothing on the walls except a crucifix. / She is a Christian. / She really is one. / Not just one for charity. / She asks us to hold her hand and pray for her. / She asks us to pray for her family. / She loves her family. / I look at my sister. / I look at my brother-in-law. / They stand up and hold her hands. / My brother-in-law bends down and checks the youngest’s eyes. / I love my family too. / We pray. / Then, snap, a family shot. / We leave. / With the promise we won’t tell the neighbors she has AIDS. / She is ashamed. / So are we. / Not of who we are or why we’ve come or what we’ve done. / We are ashamed and angry and affronted at the horrible, despicable and unacceptable inequality of gender and geography. / My sister and I share a glance in the silence on the way back to the mission hostel. / There but by the grace of God, that could have been us. Share. Please. You know the drill by now. All proceeds to charity.
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photograph. / Dec 1st is world AIDS day. / This is the commemoration in Copenhagen / Each candle represents a death.
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Every Thursday morning we go out to help the poor, the aged and HIV/Aids sufferers with food, clothing and to do the paperwork for those who are illiterate and eligible for a government pension (about US$20 a month) / This image was for a special occasion… Christmas! Each child received a chocolate, some sweets, toys and clothing, so it was very special for them. This little boy, an AIDS orphan, is looked after by his grandmother who has to survive on the above pension and our ‘handouts’ every Thursday – a loaf of bread, some meal and whatever we have managed to collect during the week. / All the proceeds from the sale of this image will go to the Redhouse Benevolent Society.
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My love and support goes out to those with AIDS and their families.
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Synthetic polymer paint and newspaper collage on paper. From a series documenting friends who have died from HIV/AIDS related illnesses. While he could still sit upright one of John’s greatest joys was reading the newspaper with Byron the dog.
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[Taken in Natural light] [As is] Inspired by the plight of extreme poor and sick children in rural and remote villages in Africa, I have dedicated my Life to helping as many as I can. “Together we can and are making a real difference”. Taken in Tunga/Zuga Village, deep in Kebbe state, Nigeria. Carla Is HIV positive. Since this Photo was taken in December 2007, Carla has improved, with our help. Sadly her mother died in February 2008. Now her Aunt cares for her.Many Children face hardship and in some cases are isolated from care and love within their community. ALL MONEY RAISED FROM SALE OF MY ART, AND DONATIONS MADE VIA OUR CHARITY WEBSITE, GOES TO HELP THESE PRECIOUS CHILDREN. WE TAKE NOTHING OUT OF WHAT YOU GIVE TOWARDS CHARITY OVERHEADS. WE ARE NOT SALARIED AND COVER OUR OWN TRAVEL EXPENSES. SO ALL THAT YOU GIVE GOES TO THESE CHILDREN To make a donation, or find out more, Please visit our Charity Mission website: http://www.philadelphia33.org/ WHEN YOU HAVE TIME PLEASE VISWIT MY NEW PRO WEBSITE:http://www.missionary.smugmug.com/ / . Camera: Canon EOS 400D. Lens: Sigma 50-500 Telephoto.. ISO 200. WB: Auto.
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One from a series. In fact, if someone sees a similar image in any printed media please let me know, as I made a extended license sale of another shot from the same session through one of the stock photography sites to which I contribute, but there’s no way to know who bought it or for what media. The other image has a white background and it features a part of my gorgeous hairy chest. Cheers.
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/ t-shirt version
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Painting. Feline faeces and synthetic polymer paint on paper. Finger painting. Series about the hidden dangers of many substances (cat poo being one) to people with auto-immune disorders such as HIV.
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Synthetic polymer paint and newspaper collage on paper. From a series documenting friends who have died from HIV/AIDS related illnesses. Eric was diagnosed with an aggressive and termimal brain tumour, a cancer associated with AIDS. Cytomegolavirus was also eating one of Eric’s eyeballs, and he had to wear an eyepatch. Eric used to be in the merchant navy, with his eyepatch and rollicking gait from years of being at sea we used to call him The Pirate, which he loved. / The doctor gave Eric 3 months to live because of the tumour, and we’d have a coffee and laugh at the absurdity of life. / On the very day when 3 months were up Eric stepped out on to the road, and unable to see properly due to his eyepatch was struck down by a car.
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There are of course causes near and dear to my heart and this is one of them. This is the image that kept popping up in my head when I thought of AIDS. I was in high school in the 80’s and back then you were taught that AIDS was a homosexual disease and was barely glanced over in class. You closed your eyes to it; you did not talk about it. It was only a few short years later that it came to the forefront of our consciousness. I have personally been touched by AIDS (as we will all most likely be) through the lost of a friend and co-worker, Christopher, at the age of 36.
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A boy at an orphanage in Cambodia in a reflective moment. He lost his parents to AIDS, but he has hope for the future thanks to the loving community where he lives. Profits from sales of this image will go directly to the orphanage (which is a great place that I regularly visit).
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Synthetic polymer paint and newspaper collage on paper. From a series documenting friends who have died from HIV/AIDS related illnesses. Tim worked hard to set up volunteer services for people with HIV and AIDS in the early days and worked hard to educate others about life for people with HIV, right up until he was unable to get out of bed anymore.
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I was recently angered by the pope’s comments that condoms could actually worsen the AIDS pandemic by encouraging promiscuity and his suggestions that abstinence is the best way forward. This is my response.
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THIS WAS A HAND MADE COLLAGE,THEN SCANNED INTO THE COMPUTER…. I DID THIS TO REPRESENT THE COLLISION OF AIDS MEDICATION WITH BIPOLAR MEDICATIONS….THE RESULT WAS MIND NUMBING AND A DIFFICULT TRANSITION PHASE THAT HAD NO WORDS TO EXPRESS…SO AS USUAL IN LIFE….ART EXPRESSED THE EXPERIENCE BEST
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REBUILDING LIFE FROM MY HEART THIS TIME / A COLLAGE DONE BY ME….THEN SCANNED INTO PHOTOSHOP AND MANIPULATED THE IMAGE
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