My father passed away when I was six, when he was forty-two. This work is an attempt to rekindle some kind of relationship with him by visiting places he spent time in. My mum and I have been on ‘pilgrimages’ together to these places; allowing her to revisit and remember times with him, and for me, discovering more about my father.
I have collected mud from his grave and other materials from the surrounding environment, and encouraged those materials to manipulate the Polaroids. For me, this has allowed my dad to leave some kind of imprint on my work. This is significant to me because he was an artist, and we never got the chance to discuss or enjoy art together.
The result is a set of unique and irreplaceable photographic objects, with a touch of my father’s input and voice.
Dad painted this windmill. He liked to paint using a limited pallet of blue and yellow watercolours.
Polaroid, mud from Dads grave in rollers.
Haws Lane, where we lived together as a family.
Polaroid, mud from Dads grave, washed in dyke.
Mum and Dad used to walk in the sand dunes here, because it was warmer away from the wind and soft on their feet.
Polaroid, washed in sea and left to bask in the sand.
Mum and dad would fly kites from North Carolina here.
Polaroid, developed in warm sand, washed in sea and buried in the sand.
Snowdrops in dads graveyard.
Polaroid, mud from dads grave in rollers.