Born on her birthday, my granny was the greatest love, and loss, of my childhood. My fondest memories were in the alterations department where she worked, getting lost amongst the whirring machines, boxes of discarded buttons, and dressing rooms. It was sort of a playground, my most vivid memories of a relationship that ended too soon.
Growing older I’ve discovered that I knew very little about her as a person, remembering only the love that was given. These photographs serve as metaphors for the way we alter, mend, and piece together memories, in order to make sense of what we have lost.