Death, grieving and introspection were, for me, the main features of this past year. Although the daily dying associated with the ongoing pandemic did not affect me directly, death crept into my life through the back door. My mother broke her leg in June and feeling the great isolation of her situation, became fed up with her life, and decided she wanted to die. She was a woman who had lived for nearly a century, and there was no convincing her otherwise; she died, assisted, in August. As a cancer survivor, I had difficulties processing this event. In addition, I was her only child and we had a complicated relationship based predominately on her needs and my guilt. Once death silenced the constantly buzzing obligations, I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. In an attempt to address this confusion, I embarked on what was to be a cathartic journey of grieving, inner examination and art making.
With no predetermined goal or destination, I was guided by my intuition, and engaged in an open-ended exploratory process. Using a small format digital camera I engaged in ‘stream of consciousness’ photography, looking within the quotidian for that which speaks of universal truths and conditions. I also engaged in a kind of subconscious photography, capturing initially incomprehensible scenarios, mostly of myself, which when actually considered, reference forgotten feelings and emotions. Using these photographs as well as some archival material, I created a photo book entitled Process. The ten diptychs presented here are found within this book and were one of my ways of exploring relationships: mother-daughter, past-present, inner-outer ...
As this work progressed it became clear that the universal processes of living and dying are mysterious and unknowable. Although I have no answers, I am currently at peace. Hoping to make connections with others, I am now sharing my experiences - making ‘my unknown, known’.
