Perhaps these pictures are a memoir—of her, of me, of her and me stitched together in that sad and harrowing way we never stopped being. If they are, I suppose they’re a hallucinatory memoir because one hazards only a sad and tremulous guess at knowing other people, including yourself and—especially—your parents. But if they are hallucinations, they belong to Céline: constructions, some shining and some terrible, but in the end more real than everyday life.
—Frank Rodick, on Frances, the thirteen pictures based on his mother's life and death, and completed 2011-2014.