The First Time
I began a series of road trips with my father and husband in 2016.
My father is recent retiree and has always dreamt of visiting National Parks across the United States. These trips were my father’s idea and he plans them to the last detail.
We have traveled the Pacific Northwest Highway, hiked Zion National Park, and traversed through canyons.
My relationship with my father has never be easy. We can be combative and argumentative. Our relationship has been difficult over the years. Getting to know him has been hard.
By connecting with nature we connected with each other. That was our common dialogue. On these road trips I touched my first redwood, I walked through my first rainforest, and I saw my first champion tree.
It was on these road trips that my father said “I´m sorry" for the first time. He had never done that before.
In March of 2019 I suffered an accident. I slipped on some ice at work and had a trimalleolar fracture. It changed my life completely. I was unable to walk, cloth, bath or feed myself for many months. I went from independent to dependent instantly.
My home is a farm in Iceland. My Icelandic husband reached out to my parents in the U.S for help. When my father heard of my accident he dropped everything and immediately flew out to live with us.
He lived with us for several months and assisted in my recovery. He cared for me. I struggled to accept his kindness.
These photographs were my sanity. What had begun as a distraction from mental and physical pain evolved into understanding.
I learned it’s easy to pass judgement. It’s a lot harder to understand and accept how a person becomes who they are. My father did not have an easy life. It is buried with abuse.
When I look at these pictures I see two people that have struggled a lifetime to accept love and caring from each other. I see this series as a beginning.