Inheriting The Silence
silver gelatin prints on glass, black aluminum and paper, installation
various sizes
silver gelatin prints on glass, black aluminum and paper, installation
various sizes
Project consists of seven silver gelatin prints on 4x5 glass plates, with archival images of early
motherhood, alongside six tintypes - silver gelatin prints on black-coated aluminum -
showing screenshots of missile strikes, phosphorus bombs, and explosions
motherhood, alongside six tintypes - silver gelatin prints on black-coated aluminum -
showing screenshots of missile strikes, phosphorus bombs, and explosions
I’m shaped by the stories of those who came before me. Growing up, I didn’t fully understand
that the stories of my ancestors - both spoken and unspoken - were forming my identity. The
stories that shaped them - the ones they voiced and the ones they silenced - found their way
into my life nonetheless, directing my perception of the world, my choices, and my fears. It’s
not always a story that told; often, it is found in absence, in silence, in what is left behind and
what is deliberately left untold.
I observe how silenced hurt and trauma resurface across generations and time. I think about
what it means to inherit this silence and how it is both a shield and a burden - how it protects
but also erases.
Now, as the next link in the generational chain, I wonder what I carry forward to my child and
beyond. Am I able to protect my child? Is there even a way to protect, a way to heal past
traumas, a way to shield him from the mix of hurt that is passed down and exists in the
present?
I hold my child and wonder how much of myself, my past and the present, and world around
me I can silence to protect his future. Is it even the right choice, to keep inheriting the
silence?
Dedicated to my son Levi, who makes it all matter.
that the stories of my ancestors - both spoken and unspoken - were forming my identity. The
stories that shaped them - the ones they voiced and the ones they silenced - found their way
into my life nonetheless, directing my perception of the world, my choices, and my fears. It’s
not always a story that told; often, it is found in absence, in silence, in what is left behind and
what is deliberately left untold.
I observe how silenced hurt and trauma resurface across generations and time. I think about
what it means to inherit this silence and how it is both a shield and a burden - how it protects
but also erases.
Now, as the next link in the generational chain, I wonder what I carry forward to my child and
beyond. Am I able to protect my child? Is there even a way to protect, a way to heal past
traumas, a way to shield him from the mix of hurt that is passed down and exists in the
present?
I hold my child and wonder how much of myself, my past and the present, and world around
me I can silence to protect his future. Is it even the right choice, to keep inheriting the
silence?
Dedicated to my son Levi, who makes it all matter.
Installation view, August Studios, Vancouver, Canada, 2024
