The Plastic Bag
As a result of breast cancer my Mother was left with beautiful brassieres that became unnecessary to her. Their inutility made them dead objects ,but simultaneously filled them with personal and lyrical value. Relics of memory that were kept in the closet but wished to be forgotten. To me they became things with souls. I am questioning the difference between a ‘Thing’ and an ‘Object’ and when does one become the other. The tension and the subtle approach to the allegory between my Mothers lingerie , the Octopus and the Garbage Bag can be seen in various ways of meaning and reading that are open for the viewers perception.