What we call the beginning is often the end.
And to make and end is to make a beginning.
The end is where we start from.
T.S. Eliot, Little Gidding
PRESENT
My father died when I was one, leaving me with no memory of him at all. Despite this, he informs every piece of work
that I make.
This book whilst referencing him, is based on recalled and imagined spaces. It is a version of the house that we carry
with us throughout our lives; the blueprint of our very first home, the one that we seek to replicate in those that are to follow. It is a kind of ‘future ghost house’.
This is notionally a three-part set of books, though only one is actually present. The empty spaces in the slipcase /stair
structure signify absence in all its many iterations.
The soft back flip book, with its two way opening contains strong memories, musings and dreams in moonlight, including the only home my architect father designed for a client before he died from the last pandemic of this country, polio.
This home was not mine but I have appropriated it as my own, and photographed it. His constructed portals, windows,
fireplaces and doorways are my entry into a world of reverie and imagination.
Judy Goldhill 2021
What we call the beginning is often the end.
And to make and end is to make a beginning.
The end is where we start from.
T.S. Eliot, Little Gidding
PRESENT
My father died when I was one, leaving me with no memory of him at all. Despite this, he informs every piece of work
that I make.
This book whilst referencing him, is based on recalled and imagined spaces. It is a version of the house that we carry
with us throughout our lives; the blueprint of our very first home, the one that we seek to replicate in those that are to follow. It is a kind of ‘future ghost house’.
This is notionally a three-part set of books, though only one is actually present. The empty spaces in the slipcase /stair
structure signify absence in all its many iterations.
The soft back flip book, with its two way opening contains strong memories, musings and dreams in moonlight, including the only home my architect father designed for a client before he died from the last pandemic of this country, polio.
This home was not mine but I have appropriated it as my own, and photographed it. His constructed portals, windows,
fireplaces and doorways are my entry into a world of reverie and imagination.
Judy Goldhill 2021