© 2018 Molly Lamb. All rights reserved.

Ghost Stepping Statement

It probably began with the crepe myrtle tree outside my window. The tangle of branches made sense to me, and this became the way I made sense of everything that didn’t.

Over the years, I have inherited the belongings of most of my family. Packing and unpacking them has become an internal conversation about the reach of the past into the present. The belongings they left behind, elusive memories, and contradictory family stories form the precarious bedrock upon which my present reality rests. These photographs are a meditation on the fragments and layers that shape my personal landscape, its erosion, and its transformation.

Poised across the invisible
space that inevitably separates
one from another
no matter how hard
we bind each other together
are the whispers caught silent
across generations,
beneath the wooden floorboards
nailed and swollen solid
leaning toward the soil,
and in the pitched hot attics
of dust and spiders,
boxes and trunks,
startled by a breath of light
they refuse to mumble, utter, hum
what lips sealed
and buried in unmarked graves.