Nails
Crying softly, the seven year old girl slammed her bedroom door. "Stupid, stupid sister!" Yet again, her sister called her ugly. She sat on the floor going through her nail polish collection. Today would be the first time she was to paint her nails. She would prove her sister that she was pretty. Although she couldn't fully read her stolen beauty magazines, she understood the photos indicated to put many coats on. And so she did. By the end of the hour, she was dizzy from the fumes and the alluring sense of maturity that her pink nails gave her. When she showed her sister, her sister just laughed and said she did a horrible job.
By the time she was a young woman, painting her nails was a twice a day ritual. She loved the feeling of adding yet another coat. It had changed from being something to grab her sisters attention. It grew into grabbing anyone's eye. But she never realized that every addiction takes its toll, even how innocuous it could be. By her 19th birthday, she was suffering from many fainting spells and the doctors concluded it was long term poisoning from the alcohol in the nail polish. Horrified, she realized she had to stop. Getting home from the doctor's, she eyed the nail polish remover, something she would use twice a week. And tonight, it would be her last.
I shot these photos from her point of view because of how personal these conflicts are. The image on the left is of her first time attempting to put on the nail polish. The clutter in the background represent the thoughts in her head and I used bright colors to create a sense of superficial reality. The image on the right is the moment when she is grabbing the nail polish remover. I used specific lighting to get the shadow over the nail polish remover to give the eerie sense of loss she is feeling. I focused on her hand rather than the bottle because she is still in shock and doesn't quite believe this is real.