Inspired by the Andy Goldsworthy documentary Rivers And Tides, I have been thinking a lot about shrines as capturing fleeting moments that we can later look back on over time and perhaps make more sense of what these shrines mean. For instance, Goldsworthy states that he takes pictures of his pieces because, during the creation process, the energy he is putting into the work might obscure the artwork. If I were to create a shrine that could be moved, added to, and release some of the control I want to have around what home means to me; how could I perhaps find more meaning within the shrine over time?
My shrine is dedicated to everyone who cannot make clear sense of what a mother is to them. Memories that are so broken and unclear they defy coherence. The shrine is an encapsulation of letters addressed to anonymous mothers that were never sent and memories that flicker in faces that have no clear meaning. It is a collection of broken memories joining together as we try to make sense of what it is to be a mother. The letters and pictures attached to a sheet fly in the wind within a cycle of clarity and obscurity; memory and unknowing; home and placelessness. A tapestry woven by the complexities of maternal bonds in threads of love, longing, and loss.
