Her maternal body is subject to fears, tears, and traumas, some of them memories—real or imagined—she wishes to be free of. With the camera as witness, she performs her mourning. To give a face to her fear. An emotional symbiosis with her child. A creative space to connect and to heal. With each photograph taken, sunlight streams through the lens adding fragments of light until her fear is fully exposed. The anticipation of a developing image in a darkroom; proof that all of this could be real. It was the first time as an artist that immediately upon seeing her photograph she cried with relief. A moment of stillness that felt like movement from within. It was as though the camera had captured the demons, and the photographs themselves became the objects of her suffering. Her nightmare’s keepers.  

Wakefulness, like the slow awareness of coming out of a dream, teaches and heals wounds. In the aesthetic arrest of a photograph, sharing a moment of stillness and connection. Receiving energy from beauty forged by pain. By and by, like fragments of light through a lens, she moves through life’s liminal moments. Before long, moments of stillness become movement. Eventually, she will cross the bridge. Giving in art and motherhood.

She believed art could save lives, even if only her own.