photo linen, wooden box, wire
I must have only been eight or nine and I still remember every detail. I had prepared for this very day, but how was I supposed to confess to a man that could not even see my face? As I knelt in the quiet room, no bigger than four feet by four feet, I could only hear his muffled voice as he could mine. My voice small and shaking, I whispered “bless me father for I have sinned this is my first confession.” This experience not only became an inherent part of who I am, but also serves as a metaphor in my artwork.
My work is largely autobiographical and is very much influenced by childhood memories and personal experiences. My art acts as a conscious confession, A Public Confession. Just as the priest behind the screen heard my troubles before, he has heard all of yours. We are all in a sense, the priest, listening to the same cries again and again. Through photography and painting, I try to make the intangible feelings, thoughts and personal experiences into something tangible. Going back to my roots and photographing what is still there is a way for me to tell myself that this is where I come from and this is who I am.
© Bridget Murphy