I Imagined It Empty

My mother rarely let me photograph her except in the last week of her life when she changed her mind. Each day as she approached death, she became more beautiful. After she passed the nurses were in a rush to cover her body and take her away. I wondered why. It seemed natural I would want to stay with her for a while. My mother was also an artist yet sadly most of her work went unseen. Each time we moved she left paintings behind. I was too young to realize the weight of this. In making I Imagined It Empty, I felt her close to me. She gave me something not tangible when she left, that I needed to have made these images.

I live in a house built in 1940 in the mountains that when we bought no-one else wanted. It doesn’t have a garage, paved driveway, basement, nor more than one bath or bedroom which is why it was unappreciated. It was cluttered but noticing the soft daylight entering through the old windows, I imagined it empty and knew it would be beautiful. Life is going by quickly and today is already tomorrow. I have lost people close to me and not, in ways unexpected or if expected, naively I did not see coming. I know that I will not live in this house forever. Hopefully it will outlive me, but I wonder if a part of me will outlive the house. In this time of instability, especially during Covid, despite so much suffering, many realized how much value and mental benefit could come from household activities, rejuvenating the idea of home and health. There was hope that this would bring positive change. With a sense of the collective sadness of the present times, I’m interested in sharing a poetic orientation towards healing.