Shira Gold is a Vancouver based fine art photographer creating emotive, intimate environmental portrait imagery on delicate but powerfully human subjects of grief, identity and life transitions. Photographic Art Photography Grief Landscape Healing Contemporary Canadian Photographer

Contact Good Grief/Numbness Good Grief/Vulnerability Good Grief/Isolation Good Grief/Fight of Flight Good Grief/Resurfacing Good Grief/On a Wing Good Grief/Silence of Noise The Fine Art of Letting Go/Statement The Fine Art of Letting Go/Photographs Press + Published The Fine Art of Letting Go/In Place Instagram Good Grief/Shock Bare Essentials/Photographs Bare Essentials/Statement Bare Essentials/In Place Capsule Collection Additional Series/Sea Swept Additional Series/Holy Smoke Additional Series/Snow Play Additional Series/Personal Projects About/Biography About/Statement About/CV About/Newsletter By a Thread/Photographs By a Thread/Statement By a Thread/In Place If Memory Was a Layer/Statement Good Grief/Statement If Memory Was a Layer/Photographs Events About/Pricing

Silence of Noise

In grief, dichotomy and contradiction are pervasive. Grief can consume, while silence can deafen. My series Silence of Noise speaks to my experience of needing distractions to get my mind off of what I’d lost. Yet, even with this desire for diversion, whenever I encountered real noise, it seemed superfluous—empty chatter at odds with the debilitating pain I felt inside.

In nature, snow absorbs both sound and silence. It can be difficult to detect the source of a noise, and the cacophony of the world becomes muffled beneath a blanket of white powder. The snowscapes in this series evoke my feeling of existing between two worlds. On one hand, I occupied the world of the living—surrounded by noise and vibrancy, conversation and community. On the other hand, I was cocooned in grief—a feeling that often muted the clamour of the living. In this sense, snow offers a metaphor for the buffer between my two modes of living—a pregnant pause between the deafening noise outside and the resounding silence of my private anguish.

1 of 11 next