Got Me Like A Cicatrix
In late 2018 I spent time in hospital after developing pneumonia. I had recently turned 36 and I found a strange significance in this turn of events as my Great-Grandmother, Carmen, had died at the same age, 60 years previously, from pneumonia.
Carmen’s photograph took pride of place at my Grandparents’ house, and although her stare was unreachable and her expression mysterious, she looked serene and beautiful to me. She was certainly stylish, but I felt a sense of sadness and longing in her. I often stared at this photo, wondering who she was behind the faded mirror of time.
My grandmother was a young child when her mother died and her memories were reflections of what she was told by her brothers, sisters and aunts, yet her mothers’ memory presented a continuing legacy. I felt a connection to this mysterious woman who I would never know and I wondered, how much of her spirit continued within me? Our vastly separate lives intersected, my experience directly influenced by my mother’s and her mother’s before her...
Within months of my illness, someone who was once a vital part of my life died suddenly. I had not seen them for many years, yet their memory left an indelible mark. I reflected upon the significance of connection with others; how bonds that felt so strong could fade with time and yet, something remains. I thought about the lasting impact we have on others, and of moments shared; and how the suddenness of change feels like a phantom limb – a reminder of a different time.
I wanted to create a requiem for the living, and for the scars we all bear. Scars that tell a story of events and memories, once so close and raw, now healed and softened – their faint traces lingering on our bodies and psyches, a cenotaph to who we once were.
The ceramic vases, their forms slightly mutated and askew, seem to struggle against gravity to remain upright, weighed down by heavy ornamentation. Resembling keloid scarring, their gnarled and knotted forms choke every inch of the surface, with the details hard to grasp in a single viewing, it is suggestive of a story one can barely untangle.
Situating this work within the Vanitas tradition, which uses symbolism as allegory to remind us of the transience of life, I have chosen to utilise a rich tableau of imagery, referencing nostalgia, innocence, joy, sorrow, love, heartbreak, healing and change.
Carmen’s photograph took pride of place at my Grandparents’ house, and although her stare was unreachable and her expression mysterious, she looked serene and beautiful to me. She was certainly stylish, but I felt a sense of sadness and longing in her. I often stared at this photo, wondering who she was behind the faded mirror of time.
My grandmother was a young child when her mother died and her memories were reflections of what she was told by her brothers, sisters and aunts, yet her mothers’ memory presented a continuing legacy. I felt a connection to this mysterious woman who I would never know and I wondered, how much of her spirit continued within me? Our vastly separate lives intersected, my experience directly influenced by my mother’s and her mother’s before her...
Within months of my illness, someone who was once a vital part of my life died suddenly. I had not seen them for many years, yet their memory left an indelible mark. I reflected upon the significance of connection with others; how bonds that felt so strong could fade with time and yet, something remains. I thought about the lasting impact we have on others, and of moments shared; and how the suddenness of change feels like a phantom limb – a reminder of a different time.
I wanted to create a requiem for the living, and for the scars we all bear. Scars that tell a story of events and memories, once so close and raw, now healed and softened – their faint traces lingering on our bodies and psyches, a cenotaph to who we once were.
The ceramic vases, their forms slightly mutated and askew, seem to struggle against gravity to remain upright, weighed down by heavy ornamentation. Resembling keloid scarring, their gnarled and knotted forms choke every inch of the surface, with the details hard to grasp in a single viewing, it is suggestive of a story one can barely untangle.
Situating this work within the Vanitas tradition, which uses symbolism as allegory to remind us of the transience of life, I have chosen to utilise a rich tableau of imagery, referencing nostalgia, innocence, joy, sorrow, love, heartbreak, healing and change.