Untitled— a collection by Bailey Levy

11/12/2024

For this collection, Bailey Levy was named a Young Arts winner with distinction by the National Foundation for the Advancement of the Arts in 2024.

Photography is the only way I am able to express myself. My very active imagination leads me to feel so many emotions that I simply can not put into words. I am, however, able to put these unexplainable feelings into an image, allowing me to convey my true sentiment.

All my life my father has been my hero, until he wasn't. He was a makeshift hero much like the way I made a makeshift hero shirt for my model (Photo 1). On my 12th birthday, he wrote me a card with the distinct words, "I will always be here for you," seen on the bottom of the card in the second photograph. That gave me a sense of comfort and the feeling he would always be there for me.

However, he did not get along with my mom. I vividly remember the day my dad was given his divorce papers. We were about to sit down for our usual family dinner consisting of spaghetti and red sauce. The room was so silent it was unbearable, so my sister and I left the table and ate dinner on my bed that night (Photo 3). Soon after, I moved out with my mom. I simply had to pack myself up and move to a new place (Photo 4).

Photo 5 represents that divided feeling between mothers, XX, and fathers, XY. Although made up of traits from both parents, thankfully, I feel I share more personality traits with my mother. I show this by leaving a larger amount of space on the XX side. The photo is torn, but not fully, because although I may not feel the same connection with my father as I do to my mother, I am still made up of his genetics, which can never be truly ripped apart.

Now that we no longer lived together, I remember the feeling of stress I felt having to hurry over to his apartment every Friday. My routine consisted of getting home from school, rushing to pack the same old grey backpack with clothes and a toothbrush, and getting in the car to drive forty minutes all in an attempt to please my father (Photo 6).

One year after living in his apartment, my dad moved back to New York right back into our childhood home, which he built himself (Photo 7). Because of this, our only means of communication were constant phone calls, until one day I received a message, "Please don't call me anymore," (Photo 8). The disconnection of the phone receiver is symbolic of the new disconnect between me and my father.

To strengthen his point, I received an email saying, "I will not be here for anyone...leave me alone." If that wasn't hurtful enough, the man who named me misspelled my name, disregarding the letter E the same way he disregarded me (Photo 9).

I chose to end this series with a self-portrait emphasizing the green eyes I inherited from my father. His eye color will forever remain on my face, even if his presence does not remain in my life. The shadow on one side of my face (Photo 10) represents this lack of his presence.

Creating this series helped me understand that I am not responsible for the acts of my father, and I have to keep living my life, despite who chooses to be in it.