The Mothers I Might Have Had
First edition of The Mothers I Might Have Had by Caroline Furneaux (2024)
First impression
Small format hardback in new condition
Signed by Caroline Furneaux to title page
About
When Caroline Furneaux’s father Colin died suddenly in 2011, she discovered an archive of 35mm slides that he had shot during the 1960s. They were a beguiling series of beautiful women photographed in idyllic locations, mostly in Sweden, where he was working and living. It was during this time that he had first met Caroline's Swedish mother, Barbro, yet hardly any of the photographs were of her.
Who were these girlfriends? For Furneaux, they evoked off-duty film stars from a bygone era. They were everyday goddesses encapsulating the essence of youth and Scandinavian summers: short and intensely sweet.
Sleuth-like, she scoured the photographs, cropping and enlarging tiny fragments, looking for clues as to who the women might be and how her father might have met them. She showed them to family members, but they didn’t recognise any of them.
As the work progressed, Furneaux realised that what she was really trying to unlock was the identity of this young man, and the complex father he would become. By some miracle of light and time, these magnificent strangers had connected her with this insouciant version of her father, and given their relationship a new life.
Description
First edition of The Mothers I Might Have Had by Caroline Furneaux (2024)
First impression
Small format hardback in new condition
Signed by Caroline Furneaux to title page
About
When Caroline Furneaux’s father Colin died suddenly in 2011, she discovered an archive of 35mm slides that he had shot during the 1960s. They were a beguiling series of beautiful women photographed in idyllic locations, mostly in Sweden, where he was working and living. It was during this time that he had first met Caroline's Swedish mother, Barbro, yet hardly any of the photographs were of her.
Who were these girlfriends? For Furneaux, they evoked off-duty film stars from a bygone era. They were everyday goddesses encapsulating the essence of youth and Scandinavian summers: short and intensely sweet.
Sleuth-like, she scoured the photographs, cropping and enlarging tiny fragments, looking for clues as to who the women might be and how her father might have met them. She showed them to family members, but they didn’t recognise any of them.
As the work progressed, Furneaux realised that what she was really trying to unlock was the identity of this young man, and the complex father he would become. By some miracle of light and time, these magnificent strangers had connected her with this insouciant version of her father, and given their relationship a new life.