You Are My One And Only                  

Mum and dad didn't know that they carried a fatal, ultra-rare genetic condition, and my younger brother and sister died when I was a child. But my genes are unaffected. After my parents died, I photographed the house I grew up in to tell this story and to explore my own identity.

In the years following the death of my siblings, mum used to say to me: "You are my one and only." This phrase always felt finely balanced between love and loss. I became an only child, and I stopped being the eldest. But I felt that I was neither.

After mum and dad died, I realised that photographing the house and its contents would be a way to explore all of the different things that I was feeling. My approach throughout was emotionally forensic, and I felt like a visual archaeologist peeling back many different layers.

Part of my project is set in the present, where I photographed the house just as I had found it. I also photographed objects I found there in order to give them a voice. Some were X-rayed (by Hugh Turvey) to reveal their inner workings.

Another part of the story is set in the past, when I was growing up in the house in the 1970's and 80's, and for that my family archive of photos, paintings and other documents became important.

When the house was finally empty, I had it scanned using LiDAR technology. These images are very different and they feel like digital visions from the future. In making them, I wanted to pass through the walls and to feel the fabric of the building atomising and slowly peeling away: as if, just for a moment, I might somehow glimpse the ghosts contained within it. 

In photographing the house I have wanted to examine everything, like I am looking for something. Perhaps what I have been looking for is a sense of identity and a way of looking to find myself. Maybe all I want to say is that once I was a brother.

This project currently exists as a hand-made photo book dummy which I hope to publish soon.