Jo
Jo is an illustrator specialising in paper collage.
Her sister Emma died in 2008 in a road traffic accident.
“I love it in winter when people have their curtains open a little bit longer. You can peek into their lives.
I love living vicariously through those glimpses. I’m not nosy - just curious.
I love making windows. Sometimes you can see a skyline reflected. And sometimes you’re looking at their personal items: tiny bookshelves, album covers, a wedding photograph.
Adding people brings another layer of playfulness. They need to be doing something. So you ask about hobbies.
And they might say, “Well, our daughter’s 12 and she’s always lying out in the garden doing calligraphy.”
And maybe she won’t love calligraphy forever but, in that moment, she does.
When people start leaving home to study or whatever, it changes the dynamic. You don’t realise it at the time.
That’s what I’m trying to capture. A moment in time alongside all of the ebbs and flows of family life.
Our house in Belfast was like a youth club. Me and Emma were the youngest girls. We were the wee ones.
We were always playing house with our dolls. Or we’d go into the shed and we’d make up recipes.
And I was always at the table making. I’d squirrel things away - with lots of siblings, you have to share a lot, don’t you?
There’s still something about that focus. The tactility of it. My little girl loves making, too. It triggers a lot of memories for me.
That’s a lovely thing.
Literally, I cut and stick for a living. It’s play.
“Even when I was young, it was my way of regulating my emotions.
It’s a way of soothing myself. ”
I’d left my phone at work. The police knocked on my door and said, “You need to call home.”
Ironically, the nearest airport was Bristol, where Emma was. I had to stop to be sick on the journey down.
I distinctly remember thinking, maybe if I get there in time she won’t be dead.
Maybe if she hears my voice, she won’t be dead.
Emma was all the clichés. She lit up the room. I mean, she loved herself! But in the most honest, modest way.
You just float through those first few months. It’s like a blanket of snow and everything’s muffled and colourless. But 15 years on, it sometimes feels even more shocking.
I wanted to preserve everything I had of her.
I’ve had a keen sense of my own mortality since I was 23.
You can’t shrink away and be scared, though. Nothing comes of that. It’s almost an insult to the person you’ve lost.
You have to put your head above the parapet again.
If I’m not making, I’m thinking about making. Even when I was young, it was my way of regulating my emotions. It’s a way of soothing myself.
As I’ve got older, it’s been a catalyst for me to do things that are more meaningful. Is it affecting people on a personal level?
I don’t want to waste time on trivialities.
The very worst thing that could have happened, happened.
But I’m alive. And I have energy and capability.
You can see more of Jo’s work on Instagram
Written by Laura McDonagh