Six Weeks Away

To move forward it sometimes means using the past to find new roots. The camera became a tool for me to put my arms around my daughter and embrace her sadness.

“Sometimes you have to go back in order to go forward. I spent my childhood running through the halls of my Nanny’s house. When my wife left me, returning to this place was compulsory for creating a touchstone to return to who I am. By holding the tools that my grandad used to tend to the garden, to care for my grandmother I am connected to the history of their love. When we take the photographs, I am building bridges to the past to communicate with my future. It is healing the wound with love from the past and my mum documents it. “

In December last year my daughter returned to live with me in London following ten years in the USA. This move was not wanted but forced upon her. How is it possible to rebuild a life from a place of loss and devastating unhappiness. To move forward it sometimes means using the past to find new roots. The camera became a tool for me to put my arms around her and embrace her sadness. The act of photographing another human being is an extremely intimate and the process photographing Mimi is extremely personal. I witness her loss whilst revealing her fragility as we find ways to reconnect after so many years apart.

I have been photographing my mother for many years; she is now 98. In the summer we returned to the village of my birth and the places I grew up. Mimi and I revisited the places I have photographed Mum, but she can no longer reach. The process of photographing Mimi in these same spaces is a way of confronting the vulnerability of three generations, whilst we work towards a place of healing and find a way to reframe memories.