Who Will Remember Such Fine Times?
In the face of great loss, we all become mad.
My particular madness manifests in a spiraling obsession to interpret the present photographically; to give everything around me a slice of immortality and immutability. The catalytic experience of losing my mother at a young age has led to a practice of image making that is a strange combination of fear, love, and curiosity.
My gaze has now turned to my father, whose obsession takes root in the maintenance of my childhood home, the small cookie-cutter suburban ranch house that we’ve lived in since I was born. Over the past five-going-on-six years since he retired, my father has filled his days with a variety of domestic improvement projects. His present preoccupation is with the front lawn, the mood ring of suburban living. He is consumed with the appearance of order, perfection even. We are both consumed with attempting to be okay.
This project was an attempt to construct a portrait of my father in all his complexities, analyzing his idiosyncrasies and details with the detachment of an anthropologist. Through the act of collaboration in creating images together, we are drawn closer. The camera acts as a mediator, allowing us to express ourselves without the limitations imposed by the appearances we both assume, creating a space for vulnerability and communication, which has often been absent from our relationship since my mother’s death. Together, we are both trying to cultivate a record of our healing, our growth, our survival. Our lives, without her.
This series was completed for my B.A. in Studio Art (Photography) at Boston College. It was presented as an artist book and an installation. Several pages in the artist book are presented above, and the installation can be seen left.
This work is also featured as an online exhibition at Aviary Gallery.