In December 2019 my Mum finally succumbed to Multiple Myaloma Cancer, she had fought against it for eight years. During this time she lived with me and my family, we shared good times and bad, we laughed and we cried, i had an amazing relationship with her and i was her carer to the end.
When i was a child i can always remember how mum would say that her rocking chair would be gifted to the daughter first to produce a grandchild, this was a special honor as my father had made it for my mum when they were first married. I was the lucky recipient of the chair and it has sat in my bedroom for the past 24 years.
The rocking chair became a symbol to me of a mothers love, one that is passed from mother to mother, a true gift. As a symbol it became a legend and something i have never been able to let go of, it just sits there with my discarded clothes on, we dont use it to rock in, we dont use it to comfort little children on, it is plainly just a receptacle for clothes but still the legend lingers.
When mum died i found a new freedom to my life, no longer the daughter now just his wife, their mother and i began to make changes and to fill in the empty spaces that her death left behind. The following Polaroid photographs depict my filling in of that empty space surrounding my rocking chair, the gradual changing in colour and finally me filling the empty space left by my mum. I have now taken on her mantle of grandmother and mother, nurturer of the family and everyone's rock. My son was the first to gift me a grandchild but im not quite ready to gift him my rocking chair, one day the time will be right.
My mother's rocking chair.
Rubbed down and undercoat on.
Painted with a green chalk paint and ready to destress. (Mum would have had a fit as she thought green should only be worn by nature!)
Distressing the paint to bring back the old black paint to give a gentle reminder of where the rocking chair came from.
The empty space
