Lia Coryell is a two-time Paralympic archer from Wisconsin. That already would be enough to make someone remarkable, yet Lia’s singularity is not her athletic achievements, but how she has transformed a lifetime of struggle into a single-minded doctrine to help others going through similar difficulties. Los Angeles-based photographer Lauren Justice was contacted by The New York Times to take portraits of Lia for an article ahead of the 2020 Paralympic Games in Tokyo.
Lia has progressive multiple sclerosis, an incurable disease that affects the central nervous system. However, Lia’s focus in life is not on being resilient with a chronic illness, or even on archery. Both seem almost peripheral to her true purpose, which instead is to seek out anyone and everyone that may need emotional support.
Journalist Ben Shpigel, author of the New York Times article, says:
Driven by her own trauma, a toxic childhood, she finds purpose in being the person who wasn’t there for her, in offering in abundance all that she never got.
Lauren, who was living in Wisconsin at the time of the shoot, frequently works with the New York Times, so editor Elijah Walker asked that she accompany Ben to photograph one of Lia’s training sessions.
Ben and I have also worked together in the past so it was great to see him again and work together on another story…he cares a lot about the people he writes about and I value working with others who feel connected to and find purpose in their work.
Ben and Lauren followed Lia as she went through her practice routine at the Fort McCoy Sportsman’s Range in Sparta, Wisc. The shooting range was an ideal space for the shoot because it has been a haven for Lia who has struggled with mental health throughout her life. She calls it her “sanctuary,” and this allowed Lauren to capture both her athletic and emotional side.
The goal was to create imagery that gave us a sense of who Lia was, both as a person and as an athlete.
Lauren strives to photograph subjects in such a way as if there were no camera present. This desire to photograph reality as it truly is is something she tries to cultivate on any shoot.
I am skilled at documenting personalities and scenes unfolding in front of me without interfering, and I’ve been told that I make people feel comfortable and at ease.
She was a great fit for this assignment because it was important to authentically capture Lia’s training and personality. It is perhaps paradoxical, but humanity’s fascination with altruists makes us want to understand them and see their inner workings. When speaking about her own resilence, Lia says:
I’ve never let go because out there there’s some kid in the same situation I was in or some woman or man who’s been diagnosed with M.S. that feels insignificant or invisible, and I can’t let that happen. This is why I’m still here.
It seems intentional on Lauren’s part to capture shots that exclude Lia’s wheelchair, emphasizing the fact that her life’s focus is not on her illness. The sparse backdrop of the shooting range, too, makes Lia front and center, featuring the story that is written upon the lines of her face.
Lauren was thoughtful in considering the many sides of Lia’s personality, and how capturing each distinct characteristic would help tell a story of a whole, complex human being. Each photo conveys something finite — grit, humor, strength of character, and meditation.
Making images that represent her strong will, the sensitivity of her experiences, and the courage of her choosing to show up as a role model to others were all important to me.
For all Lia’s struggles, it is apparent from Lauren’s images that they rarely show on her face. Lauren’s intimate portraits instead reveal someone with pronounced crow’s feet, earned only by spending decades smiling and laughing.
Ben and I both left talking about how we need to make a book of Lia-isms. She was constantly sharing impactful stories, life wisdom, and jokes.
Archery itself is a solitary sport, one that gives Lia time to herself amid a life in which she constantly serves others. Yet the quiet days spent at the shooting range have become a weekly ritual, a place where Lia reflects on what is most important to her: supporting others. Lauren captures Lia’s moment of contemplation from the grass below, as she leans into the breeze, lets the wind wash over her face, and soothes her own soul.
This is just a body, just a glob of cells, and right now it’s defective…Who I am will always be with all the people that I’ve touched, and a world I’ve made a little bit better. – Lia Coryell
This assignment contained both depth and levity because of who Lia is as a person and the life experiences she’s had. Balancing those two elements was special.
Lia is a lover of words, and posts sayings around her house. Above her bed is one: “Each morning we are born. What we do matters most.”
Lia reminds us to make our time on earth count. She is one of those people that leaves a deep impression on everyone she meets, and her time working with Lauren was no exception. That kind of intimacy and connection is precisely what Lauren continues to look for in her photojournalistic work.
Lia had both Ben and I laughing, thinking deeply, and tearful throughout the day. It’s rare to meet someone like that, and I’m grateful Ben and I both had the opportunity to spend a few hours with her.
Photographer: Lauren Justice
Editor: Elijah Walker
Writer: Ben Shpigel