In 2004 my Dad was Diagnosed with Cancer. He is the person who taught me how to take photos, so over the following years my brother and I took Dad on a number of road trips around the west coast.
After several recoveries and several lapses it wasn't until January 2015 that the diagnosis came back terminal. He was expected to have until the summer.
When that diagnosis came I printed a number of my favourite photos from those trips. Often more a colour wash or emotional space rather than an actual incident, the images embodied my experiences on the road with my dad, and became memory triggers to places and events; a sandstorm in Death Valley, the winter seas on the Olympic Peninsula, the canyon where two rivers meet.
The joy of a road trip with Dad was that on a regular basis we would pull over, "did you see that?" or "Oh! We've got to go back to that spot" or "where's the next pull out". A three hour drive would stretch on for eternity and we would always arrive late but with hundreds of photos to pour over.

For the next 12 months I took those photographs with me almost everywhere I went, looking at them often, sharing them with friends and family, carrying them with me as physical memories and allowing time and handling to take hold. In December 2015, when Dad passed away I took the photos to my studio and rephotographed them.