Vaune Trachtman
ROAMING
This series is shaped by my constant, usually unconscious exploration and evocation of what it feels like to have lost my parents at an early age, as etched with light. They died a long time ago, my father when I was five and my mother when I was 15.
In my previous series, OUT OF RANGE, this search mostly occurred in the whiteness of stilled twilight and fog, along snowy fields and the edges of ponds and woods. Those rural places are a part of me, but I grew up in Philadelphia. I’m a city kid. But after my parents died, I left Philly and for many years I was rarely in one place for very long. For years, my rootlessness rooted me. Often, the view out a car or train window felt more like home than wherever I was living. Over time, I developed a kinship with bridges and highways, trestles and roofs, with the husks of industrial towns that raced by at two or three in the morning. ROAMING is about my brief inhabitation of these places, these liminal spaces of echoes and memories.
