Relic was birthed in my own journey in grief. My mother died when I was 14. Since then I’ve toted around and kept an alter of  objects that remind me of her. My own small way to keep her alive. When my dad died in 2018 it brought it’s own path of grief, but also stirred the grief of my mother. Objects I once looked over became important and new meaning was brought to the ones I already carried. This compounded grief set me on a journey of digging into death.

In 2020 Covid came for my mind. Many of my memories were wiped away and what remained was fuzzy, lingering just below the surface. I forgot my mothers face, her voice, the moments we spent together. Some were gone anf others I knew occurred but they weren’t really with me anymore. Another wave of grief, mourning the memories lost. 

What no one tells you when your parents die is that the feeling and sense of home dies with them. The people who knew you from the start, whether good, bad or complicated relationship,  are gone, and you’re suddenly without solid grounding. 

When I felt utterly lost and confused, I spent time learning and unlearning my foundations, what I was taught about death and the afterlife and learning more about death, the science behind it and the importance of it. In this process, I made the decision to let my experiences with death and trauma truly blend with my art, show the good and the bad, let my mind and that which is tangled in it, be a part of my work and life. This has made me sit with my grief, sit with my dead, and trudge through the deeply opposing and full feelings that someone who has left can leave behind. Why are we so scared of the inevitable? And why doesn’t society let us move through the hardest times in life in our own way, at our own pace?

Objects became the ground to rebuild my life on, and the objects that reminded me of my dead allowed room for home to exist without the people who originally held the concept. I started painting my own Relics of my parents, my grandparents and aunts. In this process, I wanted to paint more objects,  grow a painted collection of peoples objects that held their dead.

Our culture is scared to talk about death and rightfully so; when we don’t talk about something the mystery becomes more mysterious and confusing. We’ve seen this concept so clearly in recent years, especially in political differences, but tale as old as time, fear breeds in the unknown and often “difference” or “other” is perceived as a threat. 

This diving in, exploring, and sharing has led me to this project. It’s the beginning of my journey to bring death to the conversation, make it less scary, mourn the people we’ve lost, and acknowledge the experience of those left behind is extremely confusing. 

I once heard a memory is not truly formed until the event is complete. I think of this in terms of people - we are not able to be seen as whole until our lives have come to an end. The objects that remind us of those we’ve lost, is one of many ways to encapsulate the full memory of a person.