Lost Freedom

I do photography for very personal reasons, which sometimes go against the standards imposed upon us by the North American society in which I evolve.

I take photographs largely to release certain anxieties that sometimes take hold of me. But I also do it to spend time with my children. Because my children fascinate and frustrate me, amaze and irritate me, suffocate and liberate me. As much as my kids inspire me and make me laugh, they also take up a lot of my time and energy, and I sometimes feel that I had to abandon some of my dreams because of them.

As someone who thrives on travelling the world and enjoying a sense of freedom, I’ve had to accept the fact that my kids demand routine and stability. I love them, but I also resent them at times, and it’s sometimes hard to live with these conflicting emotions.

This stifling feeling comes and goes, but when it does come, I feel compelled to escape my parent routine and explore those wide - open spaces – north or south, prairies or lakes, mountains or valleys... anywhere I can roam free and encounter new people and places. When this wanderlust takes hold, I feel it deep down in my gut. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to shake it completely, but photography helps me tame it in some way. It lets me escape within certain boundaries, so I can fulfil my longings – at least partially. It gives me an outlet to express my anger and sorrow, as well as my joys and desires. It also helps me channel my energies.

The cornerstone of my approach as a mother is to manage the feelings of suffocation caused by this parental role, through photography. In this project, I document the daily life of my children, their way of living in the moment, from laughter to tears, without fear of judgment. But above all, I document the freedom that inhabits them, in relation to the freedom I no longer have.