"Ah, but what can you do?"
In 2009, my grandmother Joyce Dix passed away after living in a long-term care home for only six months. At the time, I didn’t know she had left behind an archive of cellphone photographs, all taken in the last two months of her life. I found the accidental photos hidden in the phone when I inherited it; an unintentional document created by my grandmother, the transition into long-term care, a space that is not often documented by personal or family photos.
To consider this series of accidental photographs with aesthetic concerns in mind is a strange task: the perspective is too close to both the body and the objects that surround it. The composition and colour are not choices, they are only evidence of the how the body acts as a frame for experience, and how the boundaries between my grandmother’s body and the spaces that surround her collapsed realities that we face at the end of our lives.