Ruth

A Theory of General Relativity deconstructs the complex bonds between mothers and daughters—specifically my grandmother, my mother and myself. Being one of the subjects creates an interesting dynamic in which I both love and resent the other two characters. I try to be fair, but the conflict between sentimentality and objectivity cannot be avoided. At times, I am an unreliable narrator, but that doesn’t make what I say any less true.

Things changed in 2017 when I moved in to be my grandmother’s caretaker. I became obsessed with seemingly simple questions like: Who are we? How did we get here? What have we done to each other? What do we owe to each other?

Living with my grandmother brought these life-long questions into excruciatingly sharp and unavoidable focus. In the room I was staying in at my grandmother’s house, there was a hydrangea plant pressing up against the window, facing an artificial hydrangea on the dresser, next to a painting of a hydrangea hanging on the wall. The only other decorations in the room were paintings of the Virgin Mother surrounding a mirror. I can’t remember it any other way. The subject of Nature is fundamental to my work, and to know my grandmother and mother is to know their gardens. I use plants as subjects to personify us, while also referencing the intrinsic themes and metaphors associated with nature. Do I reap what You sow? Can we only act according to our nature?