On a full, but broken plate rests a symbolic story of farewells. 


My mother was the pillar that propped up my childhood. A strong and dominant woman who filled our lives with material and emotional meaning.  In October 2014, my mother passed and my father and I moved into a smaller flat because of this. 


When we unpacked our belongings into our new home, I accidently broke my parents first crockery set. The same set that remained intact for over 25 years and that my mother adored. It was a very symbolic moment for me, the round plates which fed and united us for all those years were broken, no longer serving their function.