Hold The Wall

I made this work to remember my mother and the sunlight we watched move from one side of the wall to the other every afternoon over several months in the room that she slowly died in.

My mother died in an empty room, slowly over the spring months when the sunsets are gradual and the days long. I sat with her and watched as she transitioned from one world to the other. Contemplating the afterlife and its spiritual dimensions, she simultaneously made sure that her bank statements were in order, and bills paid. She got thinner, lighter, and more beautiful with each passing day. She said she had no regrets, then soon after, she said having no regrets was ridiculous and that everyone has regrets. We listened to Miles Davis, Bill Evans and Schubert over and over again. Her room had 2 windows that looked out onto the sky through which the afternoon light entered. We watched in a shared and undistracted way the light cast its reflection as a bright floating rectangle on the wall opposite the 2 windows. It was peaceful to witness the rectangle of light progressively move from one side of the wall to the other and then wrap itself around the corner. Those afternoons were free of bias, argument, need to explain or impatience; qualities that had consistently been there in our relationship. I made this work to remember her and the light that kept us company at that time at the end of her life. Seeing my mother die from one day to the next while observing light pass in and through the room was a gift that somehow we both made time for.