Dad

On June 18, 1982, my father passed away at the age of 45, when I was almost three years old. Today, 40 years later, as I approach the age he was when he died and with a three-year-old child of my own, I reflect on what his absence has meant in my life. I am proof that a father is not necessary, but I am also proof that he is. DAD is a work in progress about absence and loss, about being and becoming. A transformation of my memories and the unanswered questions I have accumulated throughout my life.