On Oct 3rd 2011 my mother died; my world stopped for a fraction of a second and every sense of security, every theory I’d ever had on life, on death… all of them were gone, miserably inadequate and easily discarded.
Adrift, un-tethered and submerged; drowning at the bottom of a sea of air, edging through clouds, moisture laden and consumed by an abyss I attempted to regain some composure. Over the next few weeks I learned slowly to talk about it as if it had happened to someone else, as if somehow it was, as people seem to think, a ‘natural’ part of life. The air had filled with water but I was still breathing.
Three years and eighteen days later, on Oct 21st 2014, my father joined her…
Like my mother’s, his body was burned and the ash from his bones were spread in the waters of the Puget Sound. These are images of aftermath; in them I explore relationships between surface, depth, and reflection. It is a study of the elemental, of absence, and of the vertigo of grief.