My mother’s house
A Box is Never Just a Box.
“I knew what was coming and from a young age, knew that one day, I would be a motherless mother myself” Louise Fullbrook Through grief, I have been leB suffering irrevocably. Following the death of my mother, I found comfort in photographing items, found in her loB, mostly cards and toys, which had played a significant part in the relaGonship with and loss of my mother. Inspired the work of Philip Toledano ‘When I Was Six’ I set about on a journey. Work resulGng from an accumulaGon of photographic images, things that had once contained not only physical items but memories of a distant past. Talking to a therapist can be a catharGc experience but, someGmes we just struggle with our words. Can we put into words that which would enable physiological development ? i.e. cogniGve, emoGonal, intellectual and social capabiliGes, which are all affected during the grieving process. In ‘Photography and the construcGon of family and memory’ Şahika Erkonan talks of how photography has played an important role in aiding the construcGon of family image and family memory. In my visual narraGve The images have been created to tell a story of growth, development, happiness and sorrow, which has been a part of the life and journey of a mother and her daughter.
Teachings of loss throughout my childhood, an overwhelming fear of forgeRng and in an effort to keep and contain memories, I embarked upon a photographic journey of exploraGon into the items found at my mother’s house. Recording these objects through photography, in an arGsGc fashion, has transformed them and enabled them to go on in life, through another medium, by way of screens, books and more. CollecGng and recording objects, revalidaGng them in this arGsGc work those memories can now live on. Recording these items, through photography, these everyday items are now transformed into a piece of artwork in their own right.
Life is a journey and my visual narraGve aims to give the reader a glimpse of my life, before death made such a soulful impact.
My dad once said “One day Louise, they won’t come home, they won’t come home at all.”
It is the image in our mind that links us to our lost treasures; but it is the loss that shapes the image, gathers the flowers, weaves the garland. - ColeZe, my mother’s house
My mother saves empty Containers. Boxes, glass spice Jars, bottles, plastic bags. Something could be Put in it, one day, One day it could be useful. & sometimes she’s right. The word hoard means Hidden treasure. My mother the dragon With her empty jars & cardboard boxes.
Sylvie Baumgartel h"ps://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2021/11/01/saving