Ariela Subar: Social Distance (a photo project)

Lex, by Ariela Subar, for Social Distance (a photo project)

Before the world changed, I spent my day-to-day working in professional theatre as a stage manager. The stage manager is the glue between the artists in a production – the one who helps people communicate with one another, the one who provides much of the logistical and emotional support that allows story-telling and art-making to happen. When the pandemic hit and all live entertainment shut down, I was not only suddenly unemployed, but that daily access to story was taken too. I felt the urge to return to photography, a medium that had taken somewhat of a backseat when I began to work full-time in theatre.

“Social Distance (a photo project)” was born out of that day-to-day need for narrative, out of that need for documentation, out of that need for supporting others’ storytelling. As a queer artist, I can’t stop thinking about the years before which a US president mentioned AIDS in public, and the mass deaths that occurred as a result. I can’t stop thinking about the neglect of our current administration towards COVID-19, a pandemic that disproportionately affects people of color and poor people, both physically and financially. What will be the story we tell about this pandemic? How do we make sure it’s not remembered as ‘the great equalizer’, but rather, as something that is playing upon systematic inequalities that have existed for centuries? I don’t think I’ve quite succeeded at that goal yet. I am still actively working to broaden my scope of subjects, making sure that this project not only reflects my world as a young white person with access to financial support, but reflects the realities of those without that privilege and safety net as well. I have written and read a lot about the power of documentation; about how by documenting and cataloguing stories, we prove to a (mainly white, traditional) museal practice that these stories are worth historicization, and that these stories are worth remembering. This project is partially documentary, trying to take in as many stories as possible in order to catalog and archive this pandemic with honesty; I hope that these photos and narratives become part of the primary sources that we use when we look back at this moment in time.

And partially, this project is also about the contradiction of connection in this time. On most days, it feels like I am uniquely alone and uniquely part of a community
simultaneously. My family and many of my friends are states away, a distance which now seems completely unreachable. It is easy to feel isolated and alone. But at the same time, I feel uniquely supported by the closeness I have noticed within my community and my home. About a week into the pandemic, I waited in line for an hour for free pizza from a neighborhood restaurant as they made as many pies as they could, blasting music out to the street and serving the community until they ran out of ingredients. I’ve seen posts about countless Zoom birthday parties. I’ve had friends bring me sanitized groceries or meals and returned the favor. I’ve watched as mutual aid networks sprung up and friends who were able provided financial support to those who desperately need it. I’ve never wanted to hug my community more, and I’ve never been less able to. By depicting these portraits through the lens of our (often pixelated) Zoom chats, trying to align my world with those of the subjects’, I hope to also record this bittersweet method of connection itself, this simultaneous feeling of togetherness and distance. I am telling the story of my world broadening and shrinking all at once, and supporting others as they do the same.

ALEX – Student, artist – 19 – she/her/hers and they/them/theirs
Vancouver, BC

“I’m just kind of full of ‘barely’s. I finished my first mentorship in the nick of time and it got sent off to some digital showcase. I’m finishing my other project in the nick of time. I think our next meeting is tomorrow, and I’m trying to edit and finish up this whole short film, when initially all I wanted to make was a costume.

The main thing is that I’m having to do more, to make less. Because I’m having to turn all these performance into short films essentially, which is kind of nightmarish. I’m having to do super long essays and exams when really it would have been a three hour test, back in the day. Pre-COVID times are now kind of “back in the day”.

It’s lonely…it’s kind of scary. Things in my family are pretty tense. We lost our dog a week into quarantine so that was hard. In case I haven’t made it clear enough, my life has been kind of a rollercoaster. There’s been good, there’s been bad. But I’m getting by, and I think that’s what matters.”

ALEC – Performer, graphic artist, videographer, marketing manager – 25 – he/him/his
Portland, OR

“I got really into Catan in college because of my friend Michael. I lost contact with a lot of people from college over these past few years. I took a very serious track – I wanted to build my career and do theatre and I didn’t have a whole lot of other friends who did that. But I recently reconnected with a lot of people. And when the quarantine hit, I was glad I made all those connections. Because now, like yesterday, I played the online version of Settlers of Catan with Michael and his roommate – all of whom were friends from college. And it was just really nice to
be able to go back to that and to bond over this thing, this game that we played in college.”

“Tomorrow, me and two other friends who are completely from another sector of my life are gonna watch the 90th Sondheim anniversary special with all these Broadway people through a Zoom meeting. These very interesting parts of my life are being juxtaposed in my home, in my head, together. I’m always the singular thing that connects those two very different worlds. But I, as a physical person, am not moving anywhere. Right? I’m in the exact same chair having the exact same Zoom meeting with you, just like when I play Settlers of Catan my friends, or play Animal Crossing by myself, or watch a Broadway Sondheim musical. It’s very interesting being in the same physical space but interacting with all the different parts of yourself at once. And it’s kind of interesting to feel - it almost feels a little sacrilegious. My theatre friends don’t always really get my video game stuff. And my video game friends don’t really understand – they don’t even know that I do theatre. And so for me, bringing those parts of me out and bringing them back together kind of feels a little strange. But it also makes me feel a little more whole.”

CORI – Poet, theatre artist, part-time teacher – 22 – she/her/hers and they/them/theirs
Chicago, IL

“I’m a teacher’s aide at an elementary school. I know for some kids, their only escape was school. So I know that this is a very difficult time for people that use school or work or going out with friends, going out to eat, as distractions. They’re stuck with having to confront their feelings head on. I know me personally, I was terrified of being in quarantine, being in self isolation, because I knew the thoughts, the really bad thoughts, the really sad thoughts are just gonna creep into my mind. I have all this alone time and there’s nothing to distract me other than social media, and everything on social media is about what’s happening right now. So it gets really overwhelming because you’re alone, you’re isolated, and you can’t see your friends. You miss them and you miss going outside. You miss things that are ‘normal’.”

“The thing I want to contribute to the conversation about wellness and mental health is that there is a traumatic experience happening. And whether it be happening to someone you don’t know, someone you do know, or you personally, this is still traumatic. And it needs to be handled as rationally and as calmly as we possibly can. The media adding all this unnecessary fear does not help. Like, yes, this should be taken seriously but you don’t have to scare people, they’re already scared. So I think I just wanted to make it known, especially to my family, my sister who lives in NY, who’s in the middle of the worst part of it, who’s also under stress. I just want people to realize, that your mental health is important and it’s never been as important as it is now.”

GIGI – Stay-at-home domme, marketing professional - she/her/hers
Austin, TX

“There are some folks that are continuing to work as much as possible. It’s a contact-heavy profession, obviously, so there’s a lot of risk involved there. But certainly there are plenty of people that I know that have prioritized income over quarantine. And then for other folks, there are some people who are lucky to work for established clubs or venues, and their employer has made platforms for them. Whether it’s to do something digitally…in Portland, one of the strip clubs is doing “Boober Eats”, so they have the girls driving deliveries and then they get to make an income through that. But if you work on your own, there’s not much you can do besides get naked on the internet. And that market is so heavily saturated right now by everybody who’s out of work and home alone. So there’s not much of an income to be made there either, unless you had a pre-existing clientele and had been doing that full time before.”

“If you didn’t have a salaried income from a venue, which I don’t at this time, you’re not eligible for unemployment. Also in a lot of states, I know New York is one of them, even if you are a documented sex worker you are not eligible for unemployment. I have not gotten a stimulus check - my status just says ‘unavailable’ and I don’t know if I’ll get one or not. So yeah, there’s not much in the way of assistance, as opposed to somebody who’s in a traditional career.”

“I just miss people so much. I want to hug everybody. There’s this meme that’s like ‘as soon as this is over I’m kissing all my homies for 45 minutes each’. And I’m like yes, that would be amazing! I miss touching people and being near people. I miss being in a crowd. I definitely have had tons of communication over this point, so its not like I’ve been alone in that sense. I’m on Facebook and Zoom and on the phone every single day. At this point I just want to go stand in a crowd of strangers. I don’t need to talk to anybody, I don’t need that type of interaction, I just want to feel bodies.”

ANDREA – Mask maker, yarn artist – 27 – she/her/hers
Denver, CO

“The masks I make are all one of a kind. I love to match, but in high school, I hated when – I’m from a small town, and we’d all end up wearing the same thing. There’s only one JCPenney’s. So they’re all one of a kind and they’re made from fabric in my personal collection. It’s been therapeutic, letting go of some of these materials that I’ve held onto for years. They all have a filter pocket, and they’re reversible as well. I’ve been letting everyone pick theirs out so it’s been a lot of talking to people. I’ve just been selling them through my Instagram. I’ve made over 200. And so I haven’t been doing other art – it’s the longest I’ve gone without playing with yarn for years.

And I’ve been donating lots of masks too. My grandpa helps a lot of his older friends down in Florida, and I’ve been sending a lot of my masks down to him, and then just some to people walking by. And then I have a good pile to give to some organizations here. People have been very supportive. I don’t normally sell much art, so I think it was a chance for my friends to buy something from me, which has been really wonderful. There’s a lot of strangers too, who have been really cool to meet. People have just been extremely grateful. It’s really strange because it’s turned into a job for me as well. I’ve been able to feel more financially stable doing this too. It’s a win-win.”

KATHY – Retired – 70 – she/her/hers
& ATENYI – Retired – 70 – she/her/hers
Portland, OR

ATENYI: We’re worried because they’re saying sooner or later, everybody’s going to get it. We’re in that age group where we don’t know how that’s going to go. It’s a little scary to think that it could just go ‘boom’ and we could be suddenly gone. Or that one of us could be in the hospital and the other couldn’t be with them. That would be a nightmare. And I have some health stuff so that makes it extra double important that I shouldn’t get it. It’s kind of like well, how long do I have to stay in the house and away from people? And when they open things up, is it going to be safe for me to go out too or am I going to have to hang back and wait for the second wave? Knowing that there’s a virus out there that could take you out that quickly…I mean you get in the car and someone could take you out that quickly. But we’re not used to this virus. And I’m sure it’s not going to be the last one that is gonna hit…I don’t know if the world is going to change in some way.

KATHY: Being the age we are, I think we worry most about catching it and the health ramifications. We worry that, being a lesbian couple in that situation, we wouldn’t always have access to each other. We’ve done what we can to mitigate that. But at this age, we don’t have to worry about keeping our job.

ATENYI: Social Security comes through anyway.

KATHY: Yeah, and Medicare. My heart just goes out to families. I mean if you’ve got a house full of kids, what are you doing? It’s beyond me. So we try to remember the blessings that we have. The things that are going right. But we’ve always been that way. We try to acknowledge how fortunate we are.

ATENYI: I’m an optimist by nature.

KATHY: Yup. I went through a rough time for the first three weeks or so, emotionally. But when I finally got my head around that this is going to be a long time, then I could lean into it. At first, I couldn’t figure that piece out. Was this going to be over by the weekend? What does the more long term look like? And once I understood that, I felt a lot better. I still have a hard day now and then but mostly, we’re just chugging away.

LÉAH - Stage manager, artist, pursuing Rabbinical school – 25 – they/them/theirs
Brooklyn, NY

“I definitely am trying to do a handful of things, but also giving myself the freedom to create without worrying about the product all that much. With that being said, I’ve been doing a lot of knitting and embroidery, while watching movies usually. I’m trying to restart my podcast about queer aesthetics so I’ve done a couple interviews but I haven’t had the energy to edit them yet. I’m working on a podcast with the theatre company I work with, the Neo-Futurists, so that has been really fun – it’s called “Hit Play”. Just trying to make cooked food for myself – getting creative with baking challah and with what food, and also Jewish practice, can look like DIY in this moment. I’m trying to get back to all of the people who I have pen-pal relationships with, and spend some time sitting with paper too.”

CHELLE – Student/CNA/Mama – she/her/hers
& AMITY – Kindergartener
Portland, OR

“CHELLE: I was trying to find some consistency for the kiddos and ourselves in the days when we’re at home with all this stuff going on. We’re trying to have somewhat of a routine and Amity helped us make somewhat of a schedule by writing out her schedule that she usually does at school. Amity, do you want to tell us about your schedule?

AMITY: Breakfast. Clean tables. Sit on the carpet. Listening. Go to tables.

CHELLE: And that’s when you guys usually do like math and reading and art and stuff right? So what’s the rest of the day?

AMITY: Recess. Lunch. Recess. Playtime.

CHELLE: I don’t remember the last part of the school day being that way!”

MARTIN - Hairstylist, Painter, Sculptor, Creator, Rollerskater – 39 – he/him/his
Los Angeles, CA

“As an independent contractor, when the government decided to close all the nonessential business, I was forced to stop working. And to wait at home without knowing exactly what was gonna happen. Clients reached out to know if we can do their hair. I needed to reschedule everybody. Telling ‘no’ to my clients, really good clients…you need them to survive, and you have to tell them no, I cannot cut your hair. Because this is more than just a break you know?

More than a vacation.

It’s hard. You’re scared. Usually I do everything that I can to fit you in my schedule, or if I need, I’m gonna come in on a day off. And this time, it’s like no, I cannot do your hair. And most of my clients know, they really understand the situation. I have some though, telling me they’re gonna find someone else who can”

“We have to do something. Telling people that they should die? Did you see that? On the news? The Texas governor saying that the old people should be ready to sacrifice themselves. It’s just money, money, money…. Can we for a second put money aside? It’s not about money at that point. It’s about survival now.”

ADYN – Behavioral therapist, server, aspiring astrologer, student of life – 23 – she/her/hers and they/them/theirs
& MARISSA – Teaching artist, creative, community organizer – 24 – she/her/hers
Beaverton, OR

MARISSA: My older sister lives with my parents, but then my younger brother and younger sister live in different cities because they’re working or in school. And at a point, we were all saying that we all want to [go home] but we know it’s the smart thing not to. But then out of the blue they all decided to go back home.

ADYN: Like on the same day.

MARISSA: At the same time. So they’re all home together right now. And I haven’t been together with them since Christmas. I’m usually not with them unless it’s a big holiday. So I wasn’t planning to see them again until maybe summer. If not then, for sure Thanksgiving. But knowing they’re all there together and having my mom say “you should come, you should come, you should come”, but still knowing it’s not the smart thing to do is really hard. And being super family-oriented is really hard as well. I think that’s been one of the more difficult things. And I know finances are going to start to get tight pretty soon. Thankfully I’ve applied to some aid. I’ve gotten some stuff which is really nice. But that only lasts a certain amount of time.

ADYN: Kind of similarly, at a certain point, all of my old high school friends just went home. Everybody was at home. Even some of them were even seeing each other and I was like “man, I really want to go home right now”. But I know that I wouldn’t really even be able to see anybody. I guess from 6 feet away, we could wave and say hi. I know my parents aren’t seeing anybody. I guess it’s difficult just not actually having the option to see friends or family.”

BENJI – Manager at a pet retail store - 27 – they/them/theirs and she/her/hers
Austin, TX

“[Talking through screens] has actually been helpful for that anxiety of being near someone, especially someone who you don’t know very well, who you’re just meeting, someone you have a more professional relationship with, something like that. The screen breaks it down and makes it uniform, makes it universal. There are still some things you can only talk about with certain people, there are still conversational rules. But you don’t have to worry if you’re too close to someone, if you’re standing the right way, if you’re looking them in the eyes enough. I don’t have to worry about that anymore.

But at the same time, I really miss that closeness of being with certain people. There are certain people that I just feel good about being around, that I feel more relaxed being around. My best friend is up in Chicago, and I miss being able to lounge on the couch with them, go visit them, go have dinner with them. I totally miss that. It’s not that I’m happy I don’t have to socially interact with anyone anymore. It’s that I miss my meaningful social interactions that made the other ones bearable. [Talking through screens] has its benefits and it has its major hiccups. It’s nice but it’s definitely not the same.”

NASTYA – Community supporter, COVID-19 screener, musician – 29 – she/her/hers and they/them/theirs
Portland, OR

“I didn’t realize how much you rely on facial expression to communicate empathy and compassion, especially to people that have had a lot of trauma. The face shield and the mask completely change that interaction. You have to work so much harder to one - just be understood verbally, and two – to just come across as compassionate, to come across as understanding, to show people that you’re on their side, that you care, and that you’re there to help them.

People respond with more hostility and uncertainty. There’s almost a breach in trust that happens because of those added barriers. There’s both this feeling of “I can’t see what you’re thinking or doing or what’s going on your end” and also this image of “I need to shield myself from you”. And therefore we now have that breach in trust and are unsure of how to interact with each other.

That’s been really complicated. I find myself trying to come up with gestures and trying to find other small ways – I drew a smiley face on my mask for the first week. Just to try and communicate some sense of safety and fun and normalcy because it all felt so dystopian. I’m just trying to find creative ways to bridge that gap.”

KATIE – Actor – 21 – they/them/theirs
Chicago, IL

“I’ve been using the stay-at-home order to learn how to drive! Which is nice because there’s no one on the roads. And also nice because...in a time where, like, I’ve been thinking a lot about freedom, and really missing it...this is something that, once I’m able to get my license, will help me have more freedom. Once the world gets back to normal.”

Jamie

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Ariela Subar (she/her/hers) is a queer Jewish photographer and artist originally from Los Angeles, CA and currently based out of Portland, OR. She graduated the University of Chicago with Honors in 2017. While maintaining a photography career and artistic practice, she also balances work as a stage manager and production assistant for theatre and TV. Although she started her photography practice in black and white film, most of her recent work is digital, with each piece’s narrative often relying on precise retouching and digital manipulation. 

Ariela is most interested in the ways that storytelling can be used in moments of change, to bring significance to intense transformations. Her work often is both photojournalistic and self-reflective, using moments of personal crisis and growth as a mechanism to explore these metamorphoses on a larger societal level. Overall, she is inspired by the power of documentation and the archive, and through her work, works towards a reclamation of how we tell our histories, and how we will be remembered.

More information about Social Distance (a photo project) may be found here.

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