In the face of great loss, how do we form meaning? Privately, we grapple with the event, we feel the sting and the irony of loss all at once. We always knew this was coming even though we didn’t know when. Publicly, we seek. Our minds become spiritual, there’s a vision in every parking lot, down every hallway. Every bird we hear is singing the song so and so used to whistle. Somewhere in these symbols we find solace. Supposed solace. The healing journey we embarked on feels more and more like a rat race, looping the wheel over and over until we exhaust ourselves back to normalcy.
The loss of my mother in 2015 caused an irreversible rupture in my family. This changed everything, for all of us: how we see the world, how we consume our days, how we interact. More specifically, for myself, it drastically changed my vision and motivations for creating while constantly in contention with my own grief. While these motivations are not opaquely addressed within each image, the ways in which these factors culminate and reveal themselves photographically communicate broader themes of entropy, maternal care, nostalgic tendencies, and- in tandem, the folly involved in the impossible fight for control over it all.
