"Everybody’s looking at me."

Anna Grevenitis, a French photographer living in the U.S., has a son and a daughter, Luigia, 16, called Lulu. Although Down syndrom is not rare, being in public with her daughter still brings "a less welcome form of attention". From a certain age on, Lulu started noticing this attention and, depending on her mood, either reacted saying "Everybody loves me. Everybody's looking at me." or "Everybody hates me. Everybody's looking at me." Her mother reacted with a stare of her own.

In her series, Grrevenitis directs "a defiant gaze toward the camera, while her daughter goes about the daily routines of a teen-age girl". She presents Lulu to the viewer, however, on their own terms defending her from unwanted judgment. Her series is an ordinary portrait of adolescence unlike the stereotypical portrayal of children with Down syndrome usually tending to show an "angelic, saccharine, and unmolested soul" or a "burdensome, unwanted, and ultimately pitiable victim" (via).

"When my daughter was born, I was told that she had the “physical markers” for Down syndrome. A few days later, the diagnosis of trisomy 21 was confirmed with a simple blood test. Today, fifteen years later, Luigia is a thriving teenager, yet these “markers” have grown with her, and her disability remains visible to the outside world. As we try to go about our ordinary lives in our community–getting ice cream after school, going grocery shopping or walking to the local library–I often catch people staring, gawking, or side-glancing at her, at us. Even though their gaze feels invasive, I perceive it as more questioning than judging, at least most of the time. With this on-going series REGARD, I am opening a window into our reality. To emphasize control over my message, these everyday scenes are meticulously set, lit up; they are staged and posed. The performers are my daughter and I because, as her principal caretaker, particular attention is directed at me each time we leave our home. The self-portraits are purposefully developed in black and white, for by refusing the decorative and emotionally evocative element of color, I aim to maintain a distance between us and them. The composition of the photographs expresses routine, domestic acts in which I address the viewers directly: look at us bathing; look at us grooming; here we are at bedtime; this is us on a random day at the beach. In each scene, the viewers are plunged into the outside perspective. At first glance, it may seem that I am offering us as vulnerable prey to their judgement, yet in fact I am guarding our lives, and the viewers are caught gawking–my direct gaze at the camera. Through the direct, return gaze, I am not only the one in control, but I am also the one the viewer eventually focuses on. Image after image, I am emerging center-stage as I am asking to be seen. A shift in perspective is imposed. Because of the otherness of our circumstance, I know I am being scrutinized, and my own narcissistic inkling is surfacing. In the end, I am not so much interested in answering the viewers’ questions anymore as I am leaving them with mine: what is this saying about me?" Anna Grevenitis

photographs via