365/41: In My Dreams
In my dreams you were perfect
When I woke up you were perfect
Stay forever who you are
Don't change a thing
Cause you're perfect
You sway, gently in the breeze
In between my dreams
Lyrics from 'Perfect' by Vanessa Amorosi
I haven't had one of these dreams in a while ... I wish I would. I'm missing Toby a lot lately, and perhaps that's why I felt motivated to make this: to remind me.
The foreground image of Toby is the photo from Adelaide Mental Health Service that was published in the newspapers when her body was found and police were appealing for information. I keep revisiting it partly because I still find it a little disturbing, and partly because it's the last photo of her alive ... or the last one I know about, and so it's the image I return to when I'm thinking about the end of her life. The image behind was taken at our wedding [Brad and mine], when Toby was 8 years old, and it really captures the serious gentle quiet side of her personality.
After playing with several different versions, I placed the images like this because the child is further in the past than the adult. And I need to remind myself of that, because if Toby were alive, it would be the adult Toby - not the child. Also, when the adult Toby was behind the child, she looked menacing for some reason, whereas in the foreground, the expression on her face seems changeable - sometimes it looks like she's about to smile, although I doubt she was about to smile when this mugshot was taken. And I think she looks as she did in the end: mostly quite innocent and trusting despite bouts of mistrust and hypervigilance: fairly harmless and crazy.
When I use the term 'crazy', it's not meant as an insult and I don't want to cause any offense. It's just that the 'correct' terms seem so clinical and sanitised - removed from what it's really like to watch helplessly while someone you love struggles with and then succumbs to the torment of mental illness. At times it really seemed as though she had been possessed. So, for me, the less correct, more primitive and emotive term reflects the horror I felt. Also, it was the term she used. And, in a way it's less formal and a little more affectionate ... well that's my rationalisation, anyway ...
The texture is ishkamina’s Sepia Bokeh, used in an attempt to create a dream-like quality, and soften the images
I've been up all night ... I'm off to bed now.
365/41: In My Dreams
In my dreams you were perfect
When I woke up you were perfect
Stay forever who you are
Don't change a thing
Cause you're perfect
You sway, gently in the breeze
In between my dreams
Lyrics from 'Perfect' by Vanessa Amorosi
I haven't had one of these dreams in a while ... I wish I would. I'm missing Toby a lot lately, and perhaps that's why I felt motivated to make this: to remind me.
The foreground image of Toby is the photo from Adelaide Mental Health Service that was published in the newspapers when her body was found and police were appealing for information. I keep revisiting it partly because I still find it a little disturbing, and partly because it's the last photo of her alive ... or the last one I know about, and so it's the image I return to when I'm thinking about the end of her life. The image behind was taken at our wedding [Brad and mine], when Toby was 8 years old, and it really captures the serious gentle quiet side of her personality.
After playing with several different versions, I placed the images like this because the child is further in the past than the adult. And I need to remind myself of that, because if Toby were alive, it would be the adult Toby - not the child. Also, when the adult Toby was behind the child, she looked menacing for some reason, whereas in the foreground, the expression on her face seems changeable - sometimes it looks like she's about to smile, although I doubt she was about to smile when this mugshot was taken. And I think she looks as she did in the end: mostly quite innocent and trusting despite bouts of mistrust and hypervigilance: fairly harmless and crazy.
When I use the term 'crazy', it's not meant as an insult and I don't want to cause any offense. It's just that the 'correct' terms seem so clinical and sanitised - removed from what it's really like to watch helplessly while someone you love struggles with and then succumbs to the torment of mental illness. At times it really seemed as though she had been possessed. So, for me, the less correct, more primitive and emotive term reflects the horror I felt. Also, it was the term she used. And, in a way it's less formal and a little more affectionate ... well that's my rationalisation, anyway ...
The texture is ishkamina’s Sepia Bokeh, used in an attempt to create a dream-like quality, and soften the images
I've been up all night ... I'm off to bed now.