Reflections intrigue me. Though they often appear to show us a clear image, they are always distorted in some way, even if only horizontally switched. If we have no reference point to the real world then we might think the image is in fact the real world and be fooled by it.
Reflections invoke in me a similar feeling of disconnection to when I have been bereaved. Bereavement has caused me to question death and the assumption that death is natural. Even though we all expect to die one day it still doesn’t seem right to me, it isn’t as it should be. I believe there is Absolute Truth, as revealed in the person of Jesus Christ, that makes sense of death. Reflections remind me that I don’t yet fully see the world as God sees it.
The No.88 to Clapham Common and the films, Sing the Blues, If Only, Missing Mother and Escape were made in response to the sudden death of my mother when I was 19 and the sorrow I still feel nearly four decades later. They have become visual whispers, inviting the viewer to look carefully at what is going on around them amidst the cacophony of life.