But something was shifting; she was slowly slipping away, and so was the house I grew up in. After two years of working on the project, I found that I had started to develop a visual language for what was going on, and I also knew what I wanted to say. However, like with any project, it takes a lot of trial and error and a lot of time to refine ideas and images. It was especially challenging as I wasn’t physically present on an ongoing basis and only had a few weeks each year to work on it. But in many ways, the breaks were also useful to digest what I worked on and let ideas simmer.
(...) For a long time, while working on the series, I was afraid that this might not be the case, that the images would be “too personal” and the viewer wouldn’t be able to access it.
I think, as much as this project is a personal one, it is also very universal. In many ways, the materials I’m working with are universal, too, even though they might have a specific meaning for my family. But the viewer knows what these materials are. One knows about the symbolic meaning of collected teeth, hair, or precious porcelain. We all have versions of these mementos in our homes. And, at some point in our lives, we all encounter losses and the accompanying grief. We understand the power and workings of change and we understand when something comes to an end. Maybe, it’s not so much the materials, but the universality of these experiences that make it possible for the viewer to enter the work – and feel it.
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