I watch my Father sleep. He is gone – lost somewhere unfathomable to me. He is Withinout. My Father awakes. There is muzzy confusion in his watery eyes. He looks but does not see. He comes and goes – Withinout. The years tick on, taking their toll. The midnight bell looms large. Intermittent connections – cerebral discontent. Shadows in an altered reality – divorced from my own. Moments of towering isolation and stairways to ‘deadened’ ends. Ongoing entrapment in a world of jagged memories. Loss of self and the slow insidious replacement by something ‘other’. The husks of forgotten promises scattered amongst monoliths of love. Stone sealed and abandoned.
The process: in 2016 whilst staying with my Father, the television signal began to break up. I was fascinated by the fragmented screen images that appeared and began photographing them. Meanwhile my 85 year old father had fallen asleep. It was then that I made the ‘connection’. The failure of the television signal to replicate itself on the screen and the effects of ageing i.e. the failure of the synaptic connections to create solid and reliable thoughts in the brain. One became a metaphor for the other and Withinout began.
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