My mother has no gravestone. Gravestones, like funerals are for the living. Or for the dying, a re-assurance that somehow, once gone, we will be remembered by a physical marker, something solid and tangible. I really don’t know what mum would have thought about a memorial. When death calls, we forget to ask. I am sure though that she wanted to be remembered. That seems fundamental to being human, a consequence of loving and being loved, and our capacity to feel loss so profoundly.
She is remembered, not just by me and the immediate family, but by so many others whose lives she touched, in small, kind ways. I have come to understand how important small things are. Thank you mum.
Remembering: perhaps this is the best memorial of all.
I’m developing a new series of artworks using old family photos, collage and photomontage. (Pun intended.) While this work contains much that is personal and meaningful only to me and my family, it is also a commentary on the many roles of women, the changing images of women, the tensions and struggles that women navigate and much more.
The idea arose when I came across some old photos last year and started talking to photographer and friend Craig Holmes. We got together to select photos to reproduce. Craig brought a technical and creative eye to the process of selection. He made digital masters of the selected family photos, some of which were very small, with the oldest taken in the early 1930’s.
A high quality scanner in the hands of a skilled photographer yielded spectacular images. We were both surprised at the amount of detail contained in some of the images that had not been captured when the photos were developed manually.