In the initial creative component of this project, I recreated Jomon-style ceramics (Japan 12,500-300 BCE) using the traditional method of firing the clay in a bonfire. The dogu figure was about 8” tall. A dogu is a small female statue. These anthropomorphic clay figures show pregnant or amply endowed females, possibly representing Earth Mother

 

The firing process was ritualistic. I gathered pieces of pine and birch, laid out a square, then filled it with birch bark and kindling. Prior to lighting the fire, I asked the kami (life spirit) of the wood to work its magic on the ceramic pieces that would be offered, and then I lit the bark. It took about half an hour for a bed of embers to form. I rested the dogu on a thick piece of bark and put it carefully on the fire. The flames engulfed it quickly, but I managed to photograph it before it disintegrated.

 

I watched, entranced by the flames, for over an hour and for an infinite moment, I felt a bond with the Jomon artists of prehistory. The primeval magic of the fire kami had me under its spell.

 

This animation uses digital technology to resurrect the dogu more than a year later.

My brother sent me a dozen boxes of slides that my parents had from early in their relationship, circa 1955. I vaguely recall Dad setting up the old projector and showing them to us when I was about ten. I decided to treat the slides as an archaeological dig, looking to discover the world I was born into, that of my nuclear family. The recollection I had of my parents’ marriage over time was one of defined roles, power struggles and little physical touch. What I found during this excavation was something quite different: tenderness, love, hopes, dreams and affection.

 

This piece, entitled Holding Onto Love, shows a woman clasping a snapshot of a young couple. The woman’s image is similar to that of a photographic negative and blends into the black background. Both line work and colour are used to create areas of interest in the composition, leading the viewer around, but the focal point remains the couple.

 

The overall composition of the piece recalls documentary photojournalism of women holding photos of their missing husbands or children in places like Chile under Pinochet, Belfast during the Troubles, or the Highway of Tears in northern British Columbia, Canada. In this case, as in those, there is a tragic sense of loss. As I write this, my dad has Alzheimer’s, and Mom is dealing with it.