“AMERICA, AGAIN” | CHAPTER 4: INTERRUPTED

“America, Again” is a year-long project by the photographers of VII, an exploration of some of the most important issues facing American voters as they head to the polls on November 3rd. This is Chapter 4: Interrupted, a global response to the COVID-19 pandemic.

Not just interrupted. Brought to a standstill. By something that can’t even be seen by the human eye, so tiny it is measured in microns and nanometers — millionths and billionths of inches.

The coronavirus, or COVID-19, has wreaked havoc across the globe. As I write this on May 14, 2020, the official number of confirmed cases worldwide has just topped 4.5 million. There have been 303,345 deaths and 1,703,744 million people who have recovered. Economies have been devastated, unemployment levels in the U.S. have risen to levels not seen since the Great Depression, and structural inequities everywhere have been laid bare on a daily basis.

Still, like millions of people around the globe, the photographers of VII Photo have struggled—and continue to struggle — to make sense of this upside-down world, to define our humanity, to help frame the portal that is opening into a new world and all the choices that lie ahead. Some of us have been able to venture out into our communities; some of us have stayed at home.

“Chapter 4: Interrupted” is a moment in time in the middle of all this, a blink of an eye, and yet also an act of witnessing.

Text by Sara Terry/VII Photo.

View “America, Again” | Chapter 4: INTERRUPTED here

Ed Kashi, New Jersey, March 22, 2020: On a rainy day, an elderly woman walks slowly to receive a food handout in a local school parking lot. I’m slowly adjusting to this new reality. I wake up every morning and perform the following checklist: Do I have a sore throat, can I breathe easy, can I smell, do I have a fever? I then get out of bed and face the day. Sun makes it easier to face this pandemic, but on rainy and gray days, the mood is heavier and more somber.

Ed Kashi, New Jersey, April 6 and 7, 2020: (left) One of our neighbors died two days ago from the virus. He was in his 60s and had two grown kids. At noon today, about 30 neighbors on our block came out to recognize him. His wife came out on the front porch and addressed us about how they’ve lived here for 27 years, he was a friendly guy, and everybody loved him. The virus is too close for comfort. I must create a new mental discipline to focus my energies and avoid depression. (right) Today, literally on the same ground that the two days earlier we were standing in vigil for the death of a neighbor from the virus, there was a birthday party for our neighbor’s 4-year-old son. He’s a Star Wars fanatic apparently and his parents got a Darth Vader impersonator to come to the party. Life’s cycles have never felt more apparent and visceral.