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We are a collective of women photographers and storytellers that develop projects about human rights, indentity and territory. We narrate through photography boosted by other artistic disciplines. We are a symbiosis of women’s voices brought together to diversify the way we tell stories in our own region through a solutions based narration promoting change

Morning Song

Sarah Pabst  

On March 20, Argentina entered a full lockdown which we expected to end quickly but instead  lasted for several months − much longer than we thought. We were only allowed to go outside for  groceries, urgent matters, and essential work. I had to explain to my 2½-year-old daughter that  she wasn’t allowed to play outside anymore, that kindergarten was closed, and we couldn’t visit  other people. Borders closed, flights from my family in Germany to visit us got cancelled, and  from one day to the next, our world had completely changed. 

I felt as if I were drowning in chaos − our routine, our place, everything was out of order.  We were struggling with our everyday life. I felt trapped, like a caged animal in a megacity.  From the terrace I looked at the treetops in front of our building and felt the desperate  need to connect with nature. Growing up in rural Germany, nature and animals had  always been a very important part of my life and I wanted my daughter to live the same  way. When moving to Buenos Aires, I made a compromise with myself to feed that need  through frequent travels and escapes to the countryside. All that suddenly stopped.  

After a month, I found out I was pregnant. A sudden silence occupied the chaos. It was  like, after spinning in high speed, the world had pushed pause. During full quarantine,  after several days of heavy emotions, my body decided to end the pregnancy before it  even had really begun. What followed was a profound sadness and guilt: I felt betrayed by  my own body and at the same time, guilty about my sadness, for it had been “nothing“ so  far. For a brief moment, I was a soon-to-be mother of two. And what struck me most − I  knew all along before having any evidence in my hand. I began to be aware of the  connection again, of my mind and body, of my instincts, my female intuition. 

In order to fight against an overwhelming feeling of paralysis, I picked up the camera and  began documenting what was around me. My daughter, my partner, myself, and what I  missed so much − nature, little moments outside, forbidden walks to a nearby lagoon  where I encountered a magical world. Nature had regained space, the lake lay crystal  clear in the middle of Buenos Aires, teeming with birds and fish. I started to feel my part in  a greater ecosystem, as a mother and as a woman, analyzing this connection with our  inner animal.  

In our darkest moments we find the power of resilience and the strength nature can  provide us to overcome our sadness.  

Technically, by nature, humans don’t undergo metamorphosis, but this quarantine  somehow felt as if we do.

Only the outcome is still unclear.

A man is seen through the treetops from the small park in front of our building in Buenos Aires, Argentina on April 15, 2020. Argentina entered a full lockdown on March 20, 2020 that endured more than four months. We started to occupy the building’s terrace to get some air and so that my daughter could run a bit. Morning Song is a project about motherhood, love and loss, an autobiographical photographic exploration of the need to be in nature.

My daughter Elena sits on my lap in our sleeping room and stretches her hand out towards the sun in Buenos Aires, Argentina on April 29, 2020. Argentina entered a full lockdown on March 20, 2020, that endured more than four months.

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Mi hija Elena está sentada en mi regazo en nuestro dormitorio y estira su mano hacia el sol en Buenos Aires, Argentina, el 29 de abril de 2020. Argentina entró en cuarentena total el 20 de marzo 2020 que duró más de cuatro meses.

A pomegranate is cut in half in Buenos Aires, Argentina on June 4, 2020. Pomegranates are ancient symbols of fertility, frequently used in paintings.

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Una granada es cortada por la mitad en Buenos Aires, Argentina, el 4 de junio de 2020. Las granadas son antiguos símbolos de fertilidad, utilizados frecuentemente en las pinturas.

I comfort my daughter after a meltdown she had because she wasn’t allowed to go to the playground in Buenos Aires, Argentina on April 2, 2020. On March 20 Argentina entered a full lockdown and we were suddenly locked in our apartment.

A bird lands on a tree in an artificial lagoon in Buenos Aires, Argentina on July 16, 2020. Argentina entered a full lockdown on March 20 that endured more than four months. The lagoon became our small piece of paradise, the only contact to nature in a mega city during lockdown.

Self-portrait with a veil in Buenos Aires, Argentina on May 22, 2020. After the pregnancy loss and due to the isolation I sometimes just felt the need to hide myself.

A dead fish is washed onto the shore in an artificial lagoon in Buenos Aires, Argentina on June 28, 2020. Argentina entered a full lockdown on March 20 that endured more than four months. The lagoon became our small piece of paradise, the only contact to nature in a mega city during lockdown. When people started coming back, also rubbish and dead animals showed up again.

My daughter grabs my husband’s shoulder in our sleeping room in Buenos Aires, Argentina on June 2, 2020. Lockdown has brought us closer together, a sudden break in our everyday rushing life. Argentina entered a full lockdown on March 20, 2020, that endured more than four months.
Morning Song is a project about motherhood, love and loss, an autobiographical photographic exploration of our inner animal and our connection with nature.

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Mi hija toca el hombro de mi marido en nuestro dormitorio en Buenos Aires, Argentina, el 2 de junio de 2020. La cuarentena nos unió más, una pausa repentina en nuestra apurada vida cotidiana. Argentina entró en cuarentena total el 20 de marzo 2020 que duró más de cuatro meses. Morning Song es un proyecto sobre la maternidad, el amor y la pérdida, una exploración fotográfica autobiográfica de nuestro animal interior y nuestra conexión con la naturaleza.

My daughter stands in my father in law’s garden in Buenos Aires, Argentina on July 11, 2020. During lockdown she has grown a lot, turning into a kid that frequently demands to go to the nearby lagoon to watch the fish.

Palm trees are seen in the artificial lagoon in Buenos Aires, Argentina on May 8, 2020. Argentina entered a full lockdown on March 20 that endured more than four months. The lagoon became our small piece of paradise, the only contact to nature in a mega city during lockdown.

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Se ven palmeras en la laguna artificial de Buenos Aires, Argentina, el 8 de mayo de 2020. Argentina entró en cuarentena total el 20 de marzo, 2020, que duró más de cuatro meses. El lago se convirtió en nuestro pequeño pedazo de paraíso, el único contacto con la naturaleza en una mega ciudad durante el cierre por el coronavirus.

Left: Self portrait with a braid shortly after my early pregnancy loss in Buenos Aires, Argentina on May 10, 2020. Magenta in mediation is one of the strongest energies you can feel. Argentina entered a full lockdown on March 20 that endured more than four months. Right: Plants and trees in my father in law’s garden in Buenos Aires, Argentina on July 11, 2020. The garden was one of the few places we could visit from time to time during quarantine and have our daughter play outside.

I embrace my husband on July 30, 2020 in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Our bond has been fortified by the many proofs life has had for us and still might have. Few days before we board the plane to Germany we drift between joy and nostalgic feelings. Argentina entered a full lockdown on March 20 that endured more than four months.

I hold a blood stained tissue after a very early pregnancy loss in Buenos Aires, Argentina on May 3, 2020. After a week of heavy emotions during full lockdown, my body ended the pregnancy before it had really begun.

Raindrops on a leave in my father in law’s garden in Buenos Aires, Argentina on June 6, 2020. The garden was one of the few places we could visit from time to time during quarantine and have our daughter play outside.

Self-portrait with what I miss after an early pregnancy loss in Buenos Aires, Argentina on May 25, 2020. I noticed that on baroque paintings mothers are frequently pictured with one bare side.

Heavy rain falls on Buenos Aires, Argentina on April 27, 2020.
Argentina entered a full lockdown on March 20, 2020, that endured more than four months. The threat was out there, invisible, yet all the time present.

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Una fuerte lluvia cae sobre Buenos Aires, Argentina, el 27 de abril de 2020. Argentina entró en cuarentena total el 20 de marzo 2020 que duró más de cuatro meses.