Eve Adams

I have been following the blog Body Impolitic, written by Laurie Toby Edison. Today I read her post about Eve Adams and was moved by it. The final paragraph in the post:

Eve Adams is worth remembering both for her accomplishments and for her fate. In the end, in the hell of the camps, who she was, what she wrote, who she loved, and what she believed was dissolved and erased. Everyone who died in the camps, everyone who dies at the hands of the police, everyone who is deported today to a dangerous homeland, everyone who dies of abuse of any sort should be remembered both for their individuality and for their common experience. The celebrated and deported Lesbian activist writer dies next to the housewife who never left her home village, and nothing about any of their deaths is inspirational, or hopeful.¹

Ms. Edison describes herself this way.

… the article attracts my attention, and this image is what pulls me in…

… it’s an image i would make, lots of people might make, and for that reason, becomes a touchstone of common experience between me and the photographer, who is queer and prefers they, them, their as pronoun…

… when i type the name Elle, i have a fleeting memory of an Alvin Ailey dance class on Time Square… i was trying to teach a young woman a dance movement we had learned in class… she was beautiful, her name was Elle… it wasn’t till later that i became aware of Elle, the model, and i was never quite sure if she were that Elle… it’s possible i taught Elle a modern dance move… we parted on the street outside the building where the dance class had taken place… i remember her fumbling to pull a cigarette out of her bag then out of a box… we parted… i never saw her again…

… there is something very attractive about this work… something honest, particular and universal both… deploying seascapes and landscapes to mediate between their experience and the experience of others… something brilliant about it…