Upon arriving back to my hometown after graduating from college I discover a collection of old photographs that belong to my mother. Using the projector I purchased my freshman year, my mother and I spent the next two weeks in my room viewing over 3,000 slides from her early 20s. I examined her reactions as the light went in and out transitioning from slide to slide. I could see memories returning to her with every slide. The two of us together sitting in the dark gaining a new perspective at vastly different stages of our respective lives. It was kismet. My mother rediscovering her own life and myself discovering the life she had before I came along. She is a woman who has fought cancer twice, experienced betrayal, abuse, assault, and dishonesty from those she loved, and despite all this continues to create beauty wherever she roams. She is a writer, painter, photographer, gardener, sculptor, lover, friend, sister, daughter, grandmother, and mother. Looking at the photographs she took during the same years that I was experiencing in my life when I found the photographs felt like hearing an otherworldly echo.
This website is for my mother. My quietly courageous, undeniably beautiful, wishful-thinking, rasta-hearted, definition-of-art, mother.