the strangeness and complexities of humanity

Fay 2022-04-03 08:01:01

She clearly loved this world, loved life, and the ordinary people in it. She had such a great eye for them and saw them with such tenderness. She captured these vibrant precious moments obsessively like mad, and yet she could not open herself, could not bring herself to share feelings and intimate thoughts with others. She longed for human connections, but she also clinged to independence and freedom stubbornly.
She was a genius who died a lonely death, but she will be remembered. She did make her mark, she left something to this world. She made connections, however briefly, with strangers in the street. We see these precious moments today in her photographs. It is these precious moments that we share with other people that fill up our lives.
It is a way of living. Her chosen way of living. I don't know if it is a blessed or a tragic one. Nobody can tell but herself. But I think even if she lived her chosen way of life, she still felt lonely and scared near the end. We all do.

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Extended Reading
  • Abbie 2022-04-03 09:01:12

    The last 20 minutes were the most touching. The director did not tell the story as a perfect chicken soup: Vivian has a dark side of her character, and her employers are friendly to her, but their care is always limited. She has been living in the gap between different families, in the gap between the middle class and the poor. Everyone has always been puzzled by her incomprehensible explanation.

  • Maxwell 2022-04-10 09:01:08

    Even angry after watching it. Why does it have to be shared? The unearthing of "Vivienne Maier" may have meaning for the world, not for herself, her hidden uprooting, her eccentricities, dark side, thriving curiosity, distant homeland or last long sleep, magnified by a microscope , countless people who knew her but never walked into her, outflanking from the edge, pasting words and memories that may have been deformed over the years on her name, and there are many condescending people who are eager to perform and put gold on themselves. People (like a ponytail lady with glasses). For such an amazing man who has taken tens of thousands of photos in his life without printing, people gushed about "talent", "talent", "master", "loneliness", shit. So sad that those pictures were so crudely commented on and compared to other professional photographers after her death, those pictures were not her work, they were her heartbeat, her life, her universe, from her burst back to the source, perfect closure. Some mysteries may not need to be solved, let alone be arrogantly entered into a conventional art system and the value system of ordinary people