2011-2014 (selected works)
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 tremulous guess at knowing other people, including oneself and—especially—one’s parents. But if they are hallucinations, maybe they’re the kind Céline wrote about: constructions, some shining and some terrible, but in the end more real than the everyday experience of life.
— Frank Rodick, excerpted from his essay on the thirteen pictures based on his mother's life and death.