My son, Jasper, turned six the first year of the pandemic,
and I orbited around him with my camera, attempting to better understand his
world. I’m not sure he understands the camera but he loves to look at the
photographs on the bright computer screen. Jasper has multiple disabilities,
including neurological blindness and hearing loss. His language is limited. I
was making photographs in search of translation.
One day I set the self-timer and entered the camera frame.
I’ve found motherhood to be a strange dance between intimacy and isolation and
I was longing to understand myself in this moment, too. I contemplated process
and transformation: Light into touch, movement into light.
Sometimes I’m searching for something tactile. To feel a
tension on the string as I pull it around the nail. I think about how
motherhood is a separation of oneself into another. You can never be completely
understood or understand.
Now, I shift my gaze and accept that I’m searching for
something that won’t ever have an answer. Instead, I open the shutter and
gather moments of wonder, despair, mystery, and grace.
About:
I'm a process-driven, lens-based artist who makes work centered around the psychological landscape of disability, feminism, and motherhood. I'm interested in how the solitary studio merges with the pulsing rhythms of the natural world. I'm especially drawn to where these tides meet—when incoming meets outgoing. Is it a moment of peace or resistance?
Contact:
cozetterussell@gmail.com
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Project Portfolio