My grandmother died when I was nine. Vó is what I called her. She was the most important person in my life and losing her was larger than losing a grandmother.
These are made in Silver Gelatin, printed by hand, and they layer what I have of her with what I remember. Her face appears over a garden. A child sits with her back turned. The images do not resolve into one picture, because that is not how she comes back to me.
The children in these photographs are my own, four and six when I made them. They never met her. My daughter carries her middle name. Putting them where the memory should be is the closest I have come to reaching it.
Grief at nine is not the same as grief later. You do not have the language for it, so it stays in your body and waits. I made these a long time after, in a process slow enough to hold that waiting.
Each photograph is available as an archival pigment print in an edition of ten, printed by me on Hahnemühle German Etching paper. Prints are signed and numbered, and sizes are available on request.
Please write with the title of the image you are interested in, and I will send pricing and available sizes.