the signet library exhibition
‘THEREAFTER’
‘An inspiring and deeply moving exhibition …thank you.’
THEREAFTER is a collective body of work consisting of several projects and presented at The Signet Library in Edinburgh during the international festival. In conjunction with The Society of Writers to His Majesty’s Signet and The Fine Arts Society the exhibition included a collaboration created in Père Lachaise, Paris, with Turner Prize winning artist Douglas Gordon.
‘Beautiful, honest, vulnerable, serene, thoughtful, and though-provoking photography and sculpture, sensitively installed in a richly historic space.’
Alice Strang, Senior Curator & Art Specialist
Challenging perception and judgment this work offers an open insight into my past, present and hopeful future.
I was born in 1961 and put forward for adoption.
It was an act of hope, an act that I genuinely believe was beyond my birth mother’s control and which offered me, as fate would have it, the greatest childhood I could have wished for. It also, unknown to her, gave two kind strangers the joy they had experienced twice before only to sadly lose, an infant and then subsequently a young teenage girl. They couldn’t have another child but desperately hoped for one.
In 1961 I’m sure many will appreciate the predominant public view of girl having a baby out of wedlock was not considered as liberally as it is today.
A short time prior to my birth my mother left the Highlands, telling only her closest friend about her situation, wishing not to bring shame on her family. She first arrived in Glasgow, which at the time was a world far removed for where she had come. She found and shared accommodation with other young girls who were in the same situation. She was a brave young woman; I know that having come to know her.
A few days before my birth she travelled to Edinburgh, in her own words, not really feeling in control of anything but hoping the baby may stand a better chance in life as Edinburgh seemed …well different from Glasgow then. I was born on 23rd November in 1961.
A day after my birth a letter was sent to Mr & Mrs Eustace who stayed in Greenside Street in Provanmill in Glasgow informing them, strangers, of my birth. They were advised to bring a blanket or something warm for the baby.
Some years later, aged twelve or in my early teens, I came across a letter by chance, it was dated the day after I was born, with notification of the birth of a baby boy for adoption.
I read it and later that same evening asked a simple question with a complicated answer that in all truth I had little interest in: “Am I adopted”?
My journey continued and only a few short years later my adoptive mother passed away, some years later my adoptive father passed also. I hadn’t thought much of the letter from the day I found it but knew it existed.
In my late thirty’s I decided to enquire more about the young girl who had given birth to me. I knew nothing of her other than what was contained within the letter. My hopes were to let her know, if interested, that the baby had enjoyed all that’s truly important and of value in childhood.
I instructed a friend to investigate the matter with a simple instruction, that if she was alive not to cast any shadow on her or cause for concern in any life she may have since created.
I was incredibly fortunate that not long after that time we were given a second chance and my family now includes others as dear to me beyond blood alone.
Some years later my birth mother came to visit me in NYC for the first time. Having just arrived in the city from the airport she was informed I’d been taken to hospital where I’d been asked if I had a next of kin. The doctor for complicated reasons didn’t think I’d make it through the night.
Fate or whatever it may be had brought us together once again alone in a hospital and in her case again in a strange city. We spoke about many things, but I’ll always remember her asking if I had any anger or resentment towards my adoption.
I fell asleep and the following morning awoke with the medical staff seeking to find some answers, it however seemed I was deemed fit to leave hospital.
I’d answered my mother’s question that I had been given the greatest childhood anyone could have wished for and wouldn’t have changed my life in anyway.
I have made 1961 copies of this letter serving as reference to the year of my birth. I have signed by hand each one and numbered each of the copies to bestow the importance of each one.
These letters I’ve crumpled in response to the many layers within each of our lives. Also, this highlights that no two us are exactly the same, yet we bear many similar experiences.
My wish is that this work be viewed as one of hope and not judgement. That would defeat much I hold dear.
My intention is likewise to see this paper sculpture, like life, follow its own unknown form and change daily with little actions contributed by strangers.
During the exhibition people were invited to take one of the letters and in so doing became part of the continuing journey. What they decided to do with this letter thereafter became their choice.
I can only hope their choice was non-judgemental.
A LETTER BY DOUGLAS GORDON
‘LUNCH WITH GERTRUDE’
PERE LACHAISE CEMETERY, PARIS, THURSDAY 18TH OCTOBER 2018
