Number four in a series that marks the journey of my mother’s Alzheimer’s. By 2005, my mom’s memory was severely declining. She no longer recognized family members and her conversations were limited.
The vintage dress form served as a reflection of my mother—a seamstress, daughter, mother, grandmother and friend to many. Covered in shredded photos and newsprint from old scrap books these fragments were pieces and parts of her life scattered chaotically throughout the piece. It really didn’t matter that my mom couldn’t remember any longer. It just meant I was going to have to work harder to remember her.
