Ideas From Home

Photographing abandoned properties started as an inquisitiveness. I had seen images on social media platforms initially, and then in some beautiful photographic  books at the college library. Curiosity got the better of me and so for my first year photo-book module, I photographed a derelict hospital in Denbighshire. A year later, I made another book that focussed on a care home in LLanrwst  and a family home where the elderly parents had passed away and legalities had seen that house and all its contents fall to rack and ruin. It was such an odd feeling to walk through a property where the evidence of the family life that once filled the house was all still there, but abandoned to the elements and entropy. There were two things that stood out for me, I was fascinated by the photographic opportunity, but also compelled to look at the issue from a social policy perspective. I did not want to trample through people’s memories without really getting to grips with how this could happen.

According to recent statistics, 37% of elderly people in care in Britain use their assets, including their homes, to pay for care costs. A typical care cost over four years can be as much nears £200,000 for many regions in the UK. As I researched this issue, I began to look for houses that had been possessed through council orders as settlement for care costs. These houses are often secured at short notice with no effort to move or safeguard contents. Families struggle with the legal process of recovery, and in many cases the homes are ransacked and burgled a long time before the legal process is resolved. In some instances, the houses decay slowly as if in slow motion, they are forgotten and left to time itself. These are the places that I look for. The story of life is still there, but halted by a great disturbance, a trauma that stops everything.

Additionally, there’s a profound sense of memento mori, a Latin phrase meaning “remember you must die.” It serves as a reminder that we all face this inevitable fate, and our belongings will still be here long after we are gone

This project represents my own experiences of motherhood, from being a teenage mother, knowing my limitations, how fast they grow and how special these few years are when they are little children. The importance of documenting your memories with your children. My love for photography came from documenting my children’s adventures. There is a 10 year age gap between my oldest two children and my youngest two so knowing how quickly the older two grew up, I knew I had to really take in the time with my younger two.

These images are incredibly precious to me but I hope that they tell a story of how important it is to spend time in nature with your children and to photograph them as much as possible but also to make the most of your situation, slow down and be fully present.My images are me watching my kids engaging with the world and them seeing everything with their innocence. 

After forty years in the Netherlands, I returned to my Plymouth childhood home. Growing up in the 1970s meant navigating family tensions with limited outside support, teaching me to be attentive to others’ needs from a young age.

Revisiting familiar places – the waterfront, my schools, our former house – stirred gentle reflections on how these experiences influenced me. Although emotionally touching, walking these streets as an adult offered new perspectives on places that were once so significant.

I chose to photograph these childhood settings as a thoughtful way to connect my past and present. Through my camera, everyday locations became meaningful markers of my journey, helping me view my history with fresh eyes.

My fortnight in Plymouth didn’t bring a dramatic resolution but something more valuable, a quiet acceptance. Departing, I felt a tender peace, not because difficult memories had faded, but because I could now hold them with understanding and kindness toward my younger self.