Just two weeks ago, I found myself staring at a playground located directly on top of a bomb shelter. The juxtaposition of this scene struck me. The playground was a representation of innocence, childhood, youthful joy, and life, Yet, it sat atop a building that represented fear, death, threat, and destruction. This playground was located in an Israeli community only a couple of miles outside of the Gaza strip, right between two lands that hate one another. I got to see this when I visited Israel over New Year’s. I was reminded of this when I saw the photo above.
When I imagine that same photo in my hometown, happy feelings arise. It brings nostalgia as I remember my childhood, dreams of the future for the kids playing, and peace as I look at the sunset. Yet, when I remember a similar playground in Israel, I feel sad, angry, and anxious. This is because context matters. The context for the Israeli children I met was a playground located a mile away from people who wish you were not there, in a political climate of tension that has been building for years, and in a town where you only have 8 seconds between when the alarms go off and a bomb hits. I grow sad to think that these kids might not make it to be an adult and angry at the lack of peace in the world. I remember one man sharing how his house doesn’t have doors so his children can easily run when a bomb alarm goes off, and I do not feel the same peace as I look at the sunset in that photo.
Those feelings of fear, stress and sorrow are the same feelings that arise when I look at the picture above of innocent children playing paired with the sound of sirens and bombs in the background. It is a pairing that feels like it should not exist, yet unfortunately, it does. Yet, this does not take away the beauty of the image or diminish the joy of the children in that photo. Instead, it highlights the strength and bravery that so many people have to continue living their lives despite the danger around them. The ability to find joy amidst a world of conflict. It is truly beautiful to see a sunset and children playing with hope for a better future rather than fear of the present.
I remember the tour guide saying, “I often ask myself why I have not left yet, but then my children tell me that this is their home and they don’t want to leave. And that is why I choose to stay.”
This was fantastic and the title tops it off! I love the juxtaposition of laughter and happiness a picture of swings usually gives. It made me think of the scene in Terminator when she is watching the playground right before the bombs go off, which I think is what you were going for. The audio definitely enhances the imagery you were going for. The audio track brings sadness and a slight bit of panic to the listener. When you put the two together your stomach drops and it hits you “in the feels” as they say. The only other direction for audio that I can think of is maybe kids singing a nursery rhyme with slight background music like they use in scary movies. It would give a different kind of feeling than happiness and laughter but not the panic and somberness that this coupling bring.
Hi, Corinna! The image and audio you chose have a haunting effect together. Separately, the audio has a kind of vintage feel to me—it reminds me of an old movie, especially with the bird sounds. The photo is very poignant; the setting sun and low angle have a slightly sad or nostalgic effect that I think the audio really amps up with the presence of a threat. This image and sound combination also made me think about the persuasive power of media; you’ve composed a very emotionally affecting tableau, and it elicits sympathy from the viewer for the Israeli settlers you describe. Good work!