On March 22, 2010, my father committed suicide. I was a sophomore in high school and had just recently turned 17 at the time. I remember watching as my family members grieved his loss, each of them at the same time, each of them in their own way; and slowly, very slowly, I remember them growing stronger and overcoming the weight of their sorrow. As for me, I sensed little in common with their experience. I struggled to understand why I did not feel the same pain, the same loss as those around me. The process of grieving seemed to be something that had happened upon my family, and for some reason, it did not happen to me.
Song for My Father is a reflection of my relationship to the process of grieving my father’s death nearly seven years after his passing. Drawing from personal memories, material items, and family research, I examine the ways his absence has marked my life. Through the interweaving of images left behind by my father with photographs of my daily surroundings, I hope to create a narrative that visualizes a sense of that which is deeply felt but not easily seen. At its core, Song for My Father is about the desire to be present with someone who is no longer alive. Several of the works in this series consist of images from my father’s hunting trips printed on cotton rags. I was inspired by both the tactile and metaphoric qualities associated with cloth such as warmth, safety, and comfort. By reproducing my father’s image on rags, I am able to establish a physical connection with his likeness.
My father committed suicide at the pivotal moment in my life when I was just on the cusp of adulthood; too old to be considered a child, yet too young to be called a matured adult. When he died, I was left with an understanding of my father from the perspective of a teenager. Seven years later, I find myself identifying with my father in ways that I never had before. This ongoing search is a reflection of my desire to know the man that was my father, not as a child understands a parent, through their sheltered and naïve experience, but as a man who has experienced the weight of the world for himself.