photo by Rachel Rushing
For my last critique of the fall semester I wanted to give my series, 1,000 Paper Cranes for Bruce Bowman, some resolution. I had an idea of how the images fit together, but I wanted to resolve how to present this series in a fine art environment. On one side of the room I have the documentary photographs displayed at eye level. On the opposite side of the room I have displayed the images of the recreated memories with text. The images are displayed at eye level with the text displayed below each image. In the center of the room, in between the two photographic sets, is a pile of the folded cranes placed on a light table. The light from the table illuminates the cranes and makes the paper appear translucent.
In my series 1,000 Paper Cranes for Bruce Bowman, I am recording and recreating my memories and experiences of my father through the use of paper cranes. In Japanese culture, cranes were seen as holy and mystical creatures that supposedly lived for a thousand years. Folding a thousand cranes was said to make a person's wish come true. As a child I was interested in the fable of the thousand paper cranes and found comfort in folding them. When my father was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in 2009, I began to fold. I knew there was nothing I could do medically for his health, so folding was the only way I could feel productive during his treatment. Soon after I started folding the cranes, I began to photograph them using my father's 35mm SLR camera in locations that sparked memories of him. The density of the cranes in each setting changes based on the intensity of the memory being represented. Towards the end of my father's life, I realized those moments with him would be the last ones I would experience; so I began to photograph them. I continued this process through his funeral.
While the images of the end of my father's life differ from the images with the cranes, they go hand in hand. They are all images that represent my life with my father and the experiences we shared together, from my earliest memories of him to the very end of our time together. The progression through the images from the documentation of his last days, to the recreated memories, to the paper cranes themselves represents our relationship through time. It began with the two of us and now the only things left are my memories; and after that there will only be the cranes themselves.
Now that I have taken a bookmaking course, I plan on making this series into an accordion book over the summer. The accordion book can be sold to collectors, and can also be used for display purposes. Once I finish the book, I'll take some photos to post. Come back in August to check it out.
When I was little, my dad showed me
his teddy bear from when he was a child. It was in remarkable condition.
I asked if I could play with it. He told me I could as long as I
was really careful with it. However, once I was done playing, I left the
bear in the backyard. Our dog chewed off one of the ears and dragged it
around in the dirt. I don't remember what my dad's reaction was. I
just remember feeling terrible. I didn't want to let him down.
Many of the items on my dad’s
bedside table have been there almost my whole life. I remember when an old lamp my dad had on the
table burned a ridge into the frame of his alarm clock. I remember putting the unicorn sticker on the
drawer of the table, however, there is not much left of it.
My parents have always slept on the same sides of their bed, my mom on the right and my dad on the left. The bed has always been located in the same place in their bedroom, against the same wall. When I was diagnosed with cancer in high school, my dad let me sleep on his side of the bed while he slept on my bed. His mattress was more supportive and comfortable than mine. When he was diagnosed with cancer four years later, my mom slept in my bed in order not to disturb my dad’s sleep.
My dad’s workbench has always been a bit
messy. He has always known where to find
everything on it, even though it seems unorganized to the rest of us. I used to go out in the garage to borrow
tools. I always needed help finding the
right one. Now it is a mixture of tools
and hardware that is difficult to sift through.
When we would go to my grandparents’ house, my dad always sat in the green chair in the den. No matter where everyone sat, my dad always ended up in that chair. On the day of his death, my grandma kept thinking my dad was sitting in the green chair. We all kept thinking he was sitting in that chair.
My dad, my younger brother, and I used to go on
walks around our neighborhood. My dad
and I would trade off between walking the dog and pulling my brother in the
wagon. We would try and pull our dog in
the wagon, but he didn’t like it. Now
the wagon is used to block holes in the fence to make sure the dogs don’t get
out.
When we were growing up, my brother and I would try
and climb the tree in our front yard while my dad did lawn work. One day my dad decided to put up a tire
swing. He managed to get ahold of an old
tire and tied a rope around it. It was a
terrible swing. We always got grease and
dirt all over us, and it didn’t swing straight.
You can still see where the tire was tied to the branch.
All rights reserved to Lynne' Bowman.
