Mommy

After her mother’s death, a daughter questions their ambivalent relationship, her complex desire for a child and the way she constructed herself as a woman.

My mother passed away in 2009, she was in Mexico City and I was finishing my master's degree in Paris. At that moment, I realized that several questions remained unanswered and that it would be hard to grieve from a distance.

This is what made me want to go back to Mexico and spend a few years in my parents' former home, the place where I grew up. I wanted to look into my mother's past, to better understand her life and the woman she was before becoming my mother, but also to better understand our common history and the ambivalence of our relationship.

As the work progressed (2010-2021), I realized that what started out as an intimate story, gradually raised more universal questions related to the process of individuation, of grief, but also to what it is to actually grow as a woman or "to become woman" in our society today, with the various pressures (family, professional, biological, ...) which one undergoes from the moment when we can have children.

Photography, which accompanied me very closely during this process of mourning and personal research, has allowed me over the years to transform this painful chapter into something positive, turned towards life and the future.

© Lisa Gervassi - Image from the Mommy photography project
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Women in my mother's family all practiced embroidery except me. Using sewing to intervene my images was a way of keeping in touch with them and also of finding my place in the lineage. This is an image of my mother in her mother's arms.

© Lisa Gervassi - I organized this project into four stages: separation (birth), disappearance (death of the mother), wandering and survival.
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I organized this project into four stages: separation (birth), disappearance (death of the mother), wandering and survival.

© Lisa Gervassi - Image from the Mommy photography project
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I used the macrophotographs to translate the physical and psychological force of tearing or detachment, lack and emptiness, but also fragility, growth, resilience and hope.

© Lisa Gervassi - Image from the Mommy photography project
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The landscape photographs, interspersed with other images and texts, offer a reading around emptiness, hollowness, lack, absence.

© Lisa Gervassi - Image from the Mommy photography project
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We can have thousands of images of a deceased person but we will only find in them a reconstruction of our memory. What they were, with their gray areas and their different faces, will always remain unattainable to us.

© Lisa Gervassi - Image from the Mommy photography project
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When my mother died, I realized that there were many aspects of her life that I didn't know. Now, the only way I could see her was through the prism of my experience as her daughter, my own memory and my imagination.

© Lisa Gervassi - Image from the Mommy photography project
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What am I seeing? My mother? Myself? Me in my mother? Or my mother in myself? Who was she? Who am I? What remains of her in me? What is her legacy?

© Lisa Gervassi - Image from the Mommy photography project
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I chose the golden thread, to highlight this very human necessity to beautify what appears to us as ugly, hard or even unbearable. This particular piece addresses the absurdity of wanting to repair what is fundamentally irreparable.

© Lisa Gervassi - Image from the Mommy photography project
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There was a point in my grief when I felt lost and guilty. During this phase of wandering I felt a lot of confusion, it was difficult to make sense of things and to make my own decisions, without thinking of what my parents would have wanted me to do.

© Lisa Gervassi - Image from the Mommy photography project
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I decided to approach the chapter of my return to Mexico, to the family home, as a dream, that is, not by documenting the exact places and people with my camera, but using the association of ideas and images as the main vector to construct a narrative.

© Lisa Gervassi - Image from the Mommy photography project
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Like Alice in Wonderland, I let myself be guided by this rabbit, by this first image stated, to fall, then sink into the forest of memories, of heritage, of lost and unclassified objects, of floating and disordered impressions from the unconscious.

© Lisa Gervassi - Image from the Mommy photography project
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This is a reconstruction of the image number five. Here, we see the same nightstand, the same framing, but, instead of them, it's me who appears with my dog. My face is not mine, it is my mother's face, mine is a mask that I hold in my hand.

© Lisa Gervassi - Image from the Mommy photography project
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Mom never talked about sexuality, but she was scared I was going to get pregnant young. When I was fifteen, she said to me: "You know, if you ever get pregnant, you will have to keep the baby."

© Lisa Gervassi - Image from the Mommy photography project
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Mom thought I was going to fuck up my life. Without diplomas, surrounded by children and a husband met too young, the horizon was not bright indeed.

© Lisa Gervassi - Image from the Mommy photography project
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At thirty-five, I still don't have children. I have a master's degree which was of no use to me. I'm having trouble finding my place. Yet, I had always been careful with everything.

© Lisa Gervassi - Image from the Mommy photography project
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I regularly dreamed of tsunamis. I tried every time to run to escape them, in vain.The waves swept away everything in their path. It's been some time since my dreams didn't turn into nightmares. A few months ago, I even dreamed of abundance.

© Lisa Gervassi - Image from the Mommy photography project
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I imagined sitting in the car with you behind the wheel and Dad in the passenger seat. I started crying uncontrollably. I understood that time had come to say goodbye and let you go. When my daughter arrives, it will be my turn to take the wheel.

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