Welcome to this edition of [book spotlight]. Today, we uncover the layers of 'Why Am I Sad,' by Dana Stirling (published by Kehrer Verlag). We'd love to read your comments below about these insights and ideas behind the artist's work.

Can photography make sense of emotions words fail to capture?

Dana Stirling’s Why Am I Sad tries to answer this question by using beautiful and emotional photographs. Her work shows sadness and resilience in a way that everyone can understand, even without words. Through her pictures, Stirling shares her personal struggles and turns them into art. She uses color and composition to tell stories that connect with people on a deep level.

Stirling’s story makes her work easy to relate to.

Dana grew up feeling lonely and dealing with her mother’s depression. These experiences inspired her to create Why Am I Sad, a project about understanding sadness and turning it into something meaningful. Stirling is a well-known photographer, and her work has been shown in exhibitions and publications around the world. This book is for anyone who wants to see how art can help us understand and accept our feelings.

Why Am I Sad is not only for people who love photography. It is for anyone looking for comfort, understanding, and hope in their struggles.

The Book

Why Am I Sad (Kehrer Verlag, Amazon) by Dana Stirling is a deeply personal and poetic exploration of mental health through the lens of fine art photography. Stirling, an acclaimed photographer and editor, uses her images to translate emotions that words often fail to capture. Inspired by her own struggles with loneliness and her mother’s clinical depression, the book combines vivid colors, symbolic objects, and intimate moments to create a visual diary that resonates universally.

This project is not just a reflection of her personal journey but a powerful statement on the shared human experience of vulnerability, resilience, and healing. Stirling’s work has been showcased in renowned galleries and publications, making Why Am I Sad a must-have for anyone seeking connection, comfort, or inspiration in their own emotional journey.

​​Overview of the project: What inspired you to create Why Am I Sad, and how does it reflect your personal journey and broader discussions around mental health?

For many years, my work has explored themes of family dynamics, the search for belonging, and the complex relationships that shape my life. These themes are deeply rooted in my experience growing up with immigrant parents and the intense sense of isolation I felt during my teenage years. For a long time, these issues weighed heavily on me, and it wasn’t until I began using art and photography as a way to unpack these emotions that things started to take shape and my understanding of them began to deepen. In a way, I’ve been making this work throughout my entire artistic journey.

Why Am I Sad has been a long time in the making, in many ways reflecting my journey as both an artist and an individual. My work has always evolved in an open-ended, non-linear way—there’s no strict beginning or end, but rather a continuous exploration of themes like family, identity, and the complexities of belonging. This project feels like a natural extension of that ongoing investigation into who I am and how I see the world.

Growing up, my relationship with my mother’s struggles with clinical depression shaped me in ways I didn’t fully understand until later in life. Photography became a way for me to cope, process, and even understand my emotions. But it wasn’t always an easy relationship. There were times when I found myself too overwhelmed by sadness to pick up a camera, and the anxiety that came with not creating only deepened my depression, trapping me in a painful cycle.

It wasn’t until a trip in 2019 to the West Coast with my husband, Yoav, that I started to see my work in a new light. Surrounded by unfamiliar landscapes, I was struck by a simple yet deeply moving scene—vibrant purple flowers contrasting against a red driveway hazard reflector. The beauty of it, and its odd juxtaposition, reminded me of why I first fell in love with photography: the ability to capture a fleeting moment that holds both beauty and pain. That moment rekindled my creative spirit and became the catalyst for Why Am I Sad.

The question of "Why am I sad?" became a way for me to articulate and confront my emotions, although I knew there could never be a definitive answer. It became less about finding the answer and more about allowing myself to openly express these feelings and let my photography guide me through them. As I gathered images for the project, I quickly realized that curating the selection would be a delicate process. Some photos didn’t fit the vision I had for the book—not because they weren’t meaningful, but because they didn’t align with the specific narrative I was trying to create. The final selection of images is just one part of the story, but I don’t view the others as discarded. They are part of the ongoing conversation, and I know they will have a place in the future of this project.

In many ways, this work is a reflection of my personal journey, but it also connects to broader discussions about mental health. Depression is something that many of us experience, yet it remains a topic we often avoid. By opening up about my own struggles, I hope to contribute to a more open, honest conversation about mental health—one that invites others to examine their own feelings and experiences.

Artistic vision and approach: Your photographs translate inner turmoil into visual poetry. How do you decide which objects or scenes to include to convey the depth of your emotions?

That’s a great question—and honestly, it’s one I often ask myself. For me, the process of finding a photograph feels organic and unexpected. Most of the time, I stumble upon these moments naturally in the world—casual encounters that somehow speak to me. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly why something catches my eye—it just does.

Over the years, I’ve developed a visual language and a collection of imagery that I naturally gravitate toward. In some cases, I even find myself seeking specific motifs, like happy faces. But even then, it’s a spontaneous process, like discovering hidden gems scattered across the U.S., just waiting to be found.

I believe every photographer navigates the world with their own internal universe and dialogue, filtering what they see through a deeply personal lens. When something resonates with me, it triggers an instinctual response—I’m drawn to it without fully knowing why. It’s difficult to put into words, which is why I turn to photography to express what I can’t articulate.

I believe that, in many cases, the meaning of an object emerges because I choose to photograph it. Without my intervention, it would simply exist in the world as it is—unnoticed and unremarkable. But the moment I focus my attention and lens on it, the object takes on a deeper significance. By shining a spotlight on it, I transform it into a participant, a key actor on the stage I’ve created through my work.

Storytelling in photography: You describe photography as a language you speak fluently. How do you use visual elements to narrate stories that words cannot capture?

A significant part of my work has always been rooted in color. I believe color has a unique ability to "paint" an image with emotion and meaning, shaping how we interpret the world and the stories within it. Just as in everyday life, a cloudy, gray sky creates a mood of heaviness or introspection, while a bright, sunny day radiates vibrancy, optimism, and energy. In my work, color functions on multiple levels. It’s not just a visually captivating element but a symbolic force that conveys mood and infuses the image with layers of meaning. Colors hold cultural and emotional significance, and even when we’re not fully conscious of it, we read art and the world around us through these lenses.

Still life, in particular, holds a special place for me. It’s a genre that invites intimacy, patience, and introspection. I've always admired Vanitas paintings* (*Wikipedia), not just for their breathtaking beauty and precise craftsmanship but for their ability to transcend surface-level aesthetics. These works delve deeply into the symbolic and philosophical. They embrace the idea that an object is never "just" an object. For example, a shell in a Vanitas painting is not merely decorative—it becomes a metaphor. Its fragility speaks to the delicate and fleeting nature of human existence. An empty shell, in particular, suggests something left behind, such as the human body after death, reminding us of mortality and the transient nature of life. At the same time, rare and exotic shells symbolize wealth, exploration, and the cultural values of their time. In a single still life, these objects convey entire narratives—about history, culture, human fragility, and even the philosophical questions of existence.

This ability to embed meaning in ordinary objects is what I strive for in my work. I aim to transform still-life objects and quiet, seemingly mundane moments into carriers of deeper significance. I want my images to speak to something beyond their surface, to invite viewers into a conversation about meaning, memory, and interpretation. The stillness within my work is intentional—it allows for reflection and opens a door for viewers to bring their own experiences and emotions into the frame.

At the same time, this process is deeply personal. The visual language I create is specific to me, built on my own memories, emotions, and interpretations. Yet I strive to keep it open and ambiguous enough for others to engage with it on their own terms. I see my work as a dialogue—a space where the meaning is not fixed but fluid, shaped by the interplay between the artist’s intent and the viewer’s perspective. The codes and symbols I use are my way of understanding the world, but they’re also an invitation for others to see themselves within the work, to find their own stories and interpretations in the stillness.

In this way, color, symbolism, and stillness all come together as tools for storytelling—stories that are both mine and, hopefully, yours. It’s about creating a visual language that resonates on multiple levels, offering a space for reflection and connection while celebrating the beauty and depth in the quiet, overlooked moments of life.

Challenges and perseverance: The subject of mental health can be deeply personal and emotionally challenging. How did you navigate these difficulties while creating this body of work?

I think the biggest obstacle I’ve had to overcome has been navigating feelings of shame and guilt. Growing up, I was raised with the belief that certain struggles—especially those surrounding mental health—should remain hidden. "Don’t tell anyone. No one should know. It’s a private matter." This mantra shaped me, leading me to bottle everything up. During the delicate, formative years of adolescence and young adulthood, when we’re figuring out who we are, this shame became a defining force. It shaped my sense of self in ways I’m still unlearning. It’s been a long and ongoing process to break free from this ingrained behavior and allow myself to share openly, to speak about these struggles that are so often considered taboo.

Then there’s guilt, which has been another significant barrier. I carry guilt over the way my mother’s mental health challenges created a rift between us. For years, that rift was filled with anger and resentment—anger at her for not being the mother I needed during critical moments in my life. I felt abandoned by her, even though I now understand, as an adult, that she was suffering too. She needed help but never received it. That realization brought its own layer of guilt—guilt for my anger, guilt for feeling like I couldn’t fully empathize with her at the time. It’s a complex emotional terrain: reconciling the pain of what I needed but didn’t receive, while also acknowledging her struggles and the systemic lack of support for someone in her position.

On top of all this, I’ve had to face my own battle with depression and the fear of becoming “like my mother.” That fear—of walking the same path, of inheriting her struggles—was paralyzing at times. These feelings are uncomfortable, raw, and deeply challenging. To confront them publicly is even scarier. None of us want to be judged or reduced to our hardships, yet these experiences are undeniably part of who we are. They shape us, define us, and leave an imprint. But I also believe we are more than the sum of our struggles. By sharing my story, I’ve found a way to embrace these emotions, to acknowledge and understand them rather than suppress them. Bringing them to the surface allows me to face them head-on, which, in turn, helps me move forward and build a more positive future.

Photography has been an integral part of this journey from the very beginning. When I started taking photos, it became a way to harness the weight of these emotions and transform them into something meaningful. Through photography, I’ve been able to channel the darkness into beautiful, purposeful images that not only give me comfort but also provide clarity and direction. Photography gives me a voice when words fall short. It has helped me process, reflect, and ultimately heal. In many ways, it has saved me.

By embracing both the struggles and the creative process, I’ve found a way to bridge the gap between pain and hope. Sharing my story and my work isn’t just about confronting the past; it’s about carving out space for understanding, growth, and connection—not just for myself but for others who might find pieces of their own story in mine.

Connection with the audience: Your work moves beyond personal narratives to explore universal themes of sadness and resilience. How do you hope viewers will connect with your images on a personal level?

I hope that when viewers engage with my work, they truly see me—not just as an artist but as a person, someone navigating the complexities of mental health, sadness, and resilience. Even if they don’t fully understand every layer of the work, I want them to feel a sense of authenticity and vulnerability that invites connection. At the same time, I hope they see a reflection of themselves within the images.

Mental health and depression affect millions of people worldwide, transcending boundaries of culture, geography, and background. While each of us experiences life as individuals with unique struggles, there’s a profound interconnectedness in the shared experience of navigating these challenges. My work is deeply personal—it’s about my own journey with depression—but I see it as a mirror for others, a space where they can explore their own struggles and confront their own emotions.

I hope my images spark conversations, inspire moments of self-reflection, and foster a sense of connection. Depression can feel isolating, but in reality, this loneliness is shared by so many others. My work seeks to remind people that they are not alone. Even in our most isolating moments, we have companions—fellow travelers in this journey—whom we may never meet but who share similar stories, fears, and hopes.

Ultimately, I want viewers to feel encouraged to talk openly, to share their struggles without fear of judgment, and to embrace their experiences with compassion. I hope my work creates a space for empathy, where we can approach one another with open minds and hearts. By sharing my story, I want to show that there’s strength in vulnerability and that in acknowledging our hardships, we can find resilience and hope.

Technical and creative tips: Many of your images evoke a sense of melancholy through color and composition. What advice would you give photographers seeking to use these tools to evoke emotion in their work?

Be honest in your approach. There’s no definitive formula or technical checklist for creating an image that evokes emotion—what matters most is the authenticity you bring to the process. A photograph’s emotional resonance comes from the story you, as the artist, pour into it. Sometimes, a sad or melancholic image can be bathed in vibrant colors; other times, muted tones might better convey the mood. It’s not just about the tools you use but about the emotional truth you embed in your work.

When working with color and composition, think about what the subject or scene means to you personally. Ask yourself: How does this moment make me feel? What do I want others to feel when they see it? Use this as your guide. That said, intention is everything. You can have the best camera, the latest gear, and masterful technical skills, but if your intention feels hollow, the photograph might lack the emotional depth you’re striving for. Allow your personal experiences, vulnerabilities, and truths to seep into the image—it’s this authenticity that will resonate with others.

Finally, don’t overthink it. Experiment with what feels right in the moment, and give yourself permission to fail. Often, it’s through trial and error, and moments of creative vulnerability, that you’ll find the most powerful emotional connections in your work. Photography, at its core, is about communication—so focus on what you want to say and let the technical choices naturally support that message.

Photography as a tool for healing: You describe photography as a transformative medium for expressing and understanding emotions. How has this process helped you, and what lessons would you share with others using art for self-exploration?

Photography has been a profound tool for healing and self-exploration in my life. It has given me a way to process complex emotions, express feelings I struggled to put into words, and understand myself more deeply. The act of creating an image allows me to take something intangible—like sadness, fear, or hope—and make it visible, giving it form and space in the world. This process has been transformative because it shifts these emotions from being overwhelming internal forces to something I can observe, confront, and ultimately, accept.

Through photography, I’ve learned to sit with my emotions rather than avoid them. It has allowed me to navigate the dualities of my experiences—pain and beauty, despair and resilience—and to find meaning in them. The camera has become both a mirror and a shield, offering moments of introspection while also giving me the distance I sometimes need to explore my feelings safely.

Be Patient With Yourself: Healing through art is not linear. Some days the process might feel cathartic, and on others, it might stir emotions you’re not ready to face. Both are okay. Allow yourself to move at your own pace.

Photography has taught me that healing isn’t about erasing pain but about finding ways to live alongside it. It has helped me build a bridge between my internal world and the external one, allowing me to express what I feel and, in turn, connect with others. Through art, we can find not just understanding but also a sense of shared humanity—and there’s immense healing in that.

Advice for fine art photographers: For photographers looking to create deeply personal and evocative projects, what insights from Why Am I Sad would you offer to guide them in their creative journey?

For photographers looking to create deeply personal and evocative projects, the most important insight I can share from Why Am I Sad is to embrace vulnerability. It’s easy to shy away from exploring personal, uncomfortable emotions, but in my experience, it is precisely these moments of honesty that create work that resonates deeply. My project grew from struggles with mental health and my relationship with my mother, and though these were difficult topics to address, leaning into that discomfort gave the work its authenticity and emotional power. Creating personal work is a process that takes time and patience—it’s important not to rush it. My project unfolded over years because I needed that time to fully understand what I was trying to say. Photography, when used intentionally, becomes a tool for communicating complex emotions. For me, using color, composition, and light in a deliberate way allowed me to reflect the delicate nature of the feelings I was exploring. It’s also essential to accept the dualities in personal work—sometimes emotions are contradictory, and that’s okay. Embrace the tension between beauty and sadness, joy and sorrow, and let your work reflect these complexities. Your project is also a conversation with your audience, and while it’s deeply personal, it also allows others to see themselves within it. Trust your intuition and your creative choices; even if they don’t make sense at first, they are your truth. Finally, allow yourself to heal through the work. Photography gave me a way to process and transform my emotions, and I believe it can do the same for others. Creating personal art is a powerful act of self-expression and growth, and the more honest and vulnerable you are in your work, the more universal it becomes.

To discover more about this intriguing body of work and how you can acquire your own copy, you can find and purchase the book here. (Kehrer Verlag, Amazon)

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