Perhaps it was a conscious decision not to display photographs of people, perhaps they were deemed inconsistent to a contiguous narrative; to be deleted intentionally, the links broken. There are no photographs in the lounge/dining room in my image, though there are some old Christmas cards on the mantel that act as proxies for people. These cards describe connections that on their face value seem generic, sold as products in the market place. The illustrations of holly, pine trees, Santa Claus, religious symbols (especially baby Jesus and Mary in the manger), snow and various coloured glass balls with tinsel all testify to mythologies of Christmas, and family values. I look at these cards with their gaudy colours, low production values and poor design (no design?), instead reading them as signifieds of prescribed thoughts and minor gratuity (perhaps in opposition to their intention). I regard their presence as sentimental for the sake of sentimentality, the blind embrace of doxa. On the inside the printed message—‘happy Christmas’, ‘seasons greetings’ etc—accompanied with a few hand written words (which also seem offset printed) come packaged with commodified sentiments. They are little deaths for all the people that they stand in for; the absent photographs.

[See Stain]

[See Debris]

[See Still]