For Grandma Roundy.
My grandmother had lived alone in her home on a lake in northern Minnesota. She would smile and close her eyes as she watched her daytime game shows and smile along pontoon rides. She kept M&M candies in decorative tins and would grow anxious if you changed the channel on her tv. I would leave her house feeling rested, often with a lipstick stained kiss on my cheek. Throughout all of life, it felt as though her home was the one constant and accessible feeling I had. After her cancer diagnosis turned severe, she was brought into the cities to spend her last days beside her family. These photographs were taken on her last day in her home. All of her belongings remained untouched, left in a sort of timelessness, as if awaiting the return of their owner. In an attempt to captivate both the feelings of the set past being left behind and the uncertain future being moved toward, I altered some images during the fixing process, utilizing language and visual effects in the visual storytelling of memory.