The Lives Of Others

 

The fait smell of moth balls lingers on her clothes as I slide into them. Curled photos peek out of dank boxes begging to be slipped through my fingers. A hair brush sits lonely on the dresser only to be kept company by empty perfume bottles and rusted hair pins. I recognize a brooch that rests on the nightstand, it was from a snapshot just discovered, an afternoon picnic and she was dressed in her Sunday's best.

 

My compulsion to  plunder has led me to estate sales and abandoned houses.    Searching for evidence of who these women were, I collect their possessions. I've cleaned the homes of dead ladies and worn their clothes.  There are many treasures that they have left behind.

 

 I photograph myself in their clothes and recreate their snapshots and moments within their lives. I do all of this in order to understand who they were.  Based on what she has left behind, I create a persona and try it on just like I try on her clothes.  

Saturday
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Saturday
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