Ochi Reyes
—
Mother
(2013)
I went through the traces my mother left behind when she passed away: her clothes, her shopping lists, the notes she wrote on her medication, her unfinished pieces of sewing and her photographs.
In this search I used different lenses to get closer and closer until I finally used a microscope through which the referent disappears in what appears as a series of deserted and abstract landscapes, mirrors of my feelings. This process was nothing other than a way to both understand her absence and to try to grasp onto whatever could hold her presence; a way to forget and to remember, a way to let emotions go as well as a way to constantly open the doors of these emotions to be able to feel.
(2013)
I went through the traces my mother left behind when she passed away: her clothes, her shopping lists, the notes she wrote on her medication, her unfinished pieces of sewing and her photographs.
In this search I used different lenses to get closer and closer until I finally used a microscope through which the referent disappears in what appears as a series of deserted and abstract landscapes, mirrors of my feelings. This process was nothing other than a way to both understand her absence and to try to grasp onto whatever could hold her presence; a way to forget and to remember, a way to let emotions go as well as a way to constantly open the doors of these emotions to be able to feel.
