My mother’s memory
Looking through my families‘ photo albums, I noticed that there were pictures that had fallen victim to an act of vandalism. I researched to see if there were more pictures like this and found a whole series of my mother’s memories of her past.
As little as I approve violence against pictures, I was fascinated by these tear-outs, croppings and partial removals. A very specific person had always been removed. A kind of photo therapy or photo voodoo that would have remained undiscovered if I had not brought it to light. About the strange life of its own, survival and death of images.