How Photography Bridged the Autism Gap Between Father and Son

Photographer Timothy Archibald looks back on the project that changed his family’s life

Taylor Glascock
Vantage

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It’s been nearly five years since photographer Timothy Archibald published his second book, Echolilia, and even longer since he and his son Eli unwittingly became the poster children for autism. That was never the plan.

“Looking at my life and career, I do think there was a turning point before Echolilia and after,” Archibald says. “A lot of things changed during that period, none of them were ever really calculated.”

It started in 2007, when Archibald began to notice that there was something different about his son. At the time, Eli had not been diagnosed with autism. There were tantrums and odd fascinations with household objects, strange behaviors and failures to communicate. Raising a child is difficult, but this was something else. A commercial photographer, Archibald adapted by doing what he did best. He took photos.

“I was a new dad raising a kid who I didn’t know what the deal was with, and we started making the pictures together,” he says.

Archibald refers to this work as a collaboration. It belongs to his son just as much as it belongs to him. Though the photos appear natural, they were born of short sessions in which Archibald would explore one of Eli’s predilections du jour.

One of the more jarring images in the book depicts Eli, small and naked, curled up inside of a plastic box. This was Eli’s idea. Many times after Archibald would make a photo of Eli, it was Eli’s turn to make a photo of him. Through photography, father and son were able to understand one another in a way they hadn’t before.

Archibald and Eli continued to make images together until 2010, when they published Echolilia. Responses to the work were swift and intense.

“When the book came out, it was almost like in the media, Eli became Mr. Autism. Suddenly a project that wasn’t supposed to be about autism became autism.”

The two did interviews together and traveled with the work doing presentations. There was an early lecture where Archibald never even said the word “autism.” He said he didn’t want to admit it to himself. His view quickly changed. He wanted to instill in Eli that its not a handicap, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.

“With all the bravado of an autistic kid who doesn’t think twice what people think about him, he can get in front of 400 people and not blink an eye,” Archibald says, describing how Eli would respond to his newfound audiences.

While there were some negative reactions to the project, most of the feedback, especially from parents of autistic children, was overwhelmingly postitive. Parents often sent him photos of their children in similar situations as Eli.

“I just did what parents of autistic kids all over the world were doing, I just had a nicer camera and a little more intention.”

Eli is now 13, and the project is long over.

“I don’t feel like there’s anything to discover anymore. He’s a teenager who expresses himself very well,” Archibald said. “We answered all of the questions we wanted to answer.”

Eli loves computers, Minecraft and satirical songs. He hates art. At one point he got into photography, much like any son wants to emulate his father, but he’s very much his own person now. He looks back at Echolilia as something he did when he was little. Some kids go fishing with their dads, and some kids make critically acclaimed photo projects.

Archibald says he wouldn’t change a thing about Echolilia. It changed his career trajectory, but more importantly, it developed his relationship with his son.

“It was just paying attention and listening to your kid. Becoming an equal, not just a parent.”

In November 2014, Archibald released his latest book, Home, which is a quiet meditation on the dissolution of his marriage. He had been with his wife since age 19. He was living in a garage. Home wasn’t so easy to define.

“I was looking at things very differently then, just imagining what the future was going to be like. Where do the kids go? Where do I go?”

Square black and white images are displayed side by side to denote presence and absence. Eli makes an appearance in the book, as does his younger brother, Wilson. The children are digging a hole. This hole reappears over and over again. “You try to fill in that hole, but it’s never really the same.”

Life isn’t so bleak, though.

“There is some kind of filter I’m seeing though here. Life is changing but still going forward.”

All photos by Timothy Archibald

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Taylor Glascock
Vantage

Chicago freelance photographer. Writer for Vantage and creator of Shit Photojournalists Like. Self-deprecation, photography, and cats.