Essay 193 • Sep 8th 2017
- by Nika De Carlo
The year we were baptized we found a home in new land. I left to run from myself, but I could not hide. The sky at night was loud. We took turns being alone, just to listen. I was told to keep moving. Surely my demons were close behind. We walked until we could no more - until we were raw, returning to the womb of the earth, soil on our skin, purple from the sun, bruised from the moon - until we were certain we had become somehow renewed.
Nike De Carlo is a twenty-three year-old photographer from Brooklyn, NY
“Documenting youth is important to me because it is a subject that is passionate, never-ending, and fresh. I see boys and girls longing to be free, to be loved, and to experience the wholeness of living. My work relies on the environments that my subjects call home – their secret places where they are most accepted and safe. I choose to document this subject to define the meaning of immunity, discovery, relationships, and friendships.”