Sophie
Sophie is a visual artist specialising in light sensitive materials.
Her dad died in 2005.
“They sent me the things that were in his pockets. When I found the envelope again, it said so much about him.
He should have had a notebook. He probably did.
But mostly he’d write on the back of things. Gig flyers, receipts. He always had a pocketful of scraps.
For my final project at uni, I scanned them and printed it out so it was really big. I had another project, but I swapped over the images after the opening night.
I remember people in the department saying, “We didn’t know you had this.”
There’s a name and a number. One that says ‘Sophie’s visit’ and a list of things we’d do. Ideas he’d written down for lyrics. One says ‘Irritable Male Syndrome.’
He was doing an afternoon gig. He’d left the pub and was on his way to a rehearsal. He was crossing the road and got hit by a motorcyclist. He had his guitar on his back.
He always wanted to be one of those people who knew London inside and out.
What’s really frustrating is that there’s a crossing there now.
He wanted me to be part of his life but on his terms, I guess. There were very few occasions where he had to step in and be a proper dad.
I came home stoned once and I remember Mum holding out the phone and saying, “Your father’s on the line.” He never talked to me like a dad, so it was scary.
Whenever I went to see him, we’d go to galleries, go to gigs, hang out with his friends. I’ve had to come to terms with the fact he wasn’t a very good ally to my mum. She had to do all the shit stuff, all the telling off.
I really wanted to emulate him. I really wanted to be in a band. I wanted to be a cartoonist like him as well.
I was trying to do those things but I didn’t know how. I didn’t know how to loosen up with it.
“Mostly it’s been about trying to find him. Having a relationship with him. ”
Some unexpected stuff happened at the beginning of this year.
I found my old Gameboy camera and there were some photos on it: a leaf in the snow, a picture of Portland.
Odd little snippets. And then a photo of me and one of him.
I mean, it’s definitely a picture of my dad. And it’s obvious that I’ve taken the photo. But I don’t know who this person is. There’s a whole story there.
I’d done a photography degree, I’d done portraiture and all that. I must have been frustrated that I hadn’t taken any pictures of him.
But it turns out that I did, only on this clunky machine.
It felt very strange and powerful.
Mostly it’s been about trying to find him. Having a relationship with him.
Because we didn’t live together, there was always a disconnect. I was a teenager, his daughter, so there were things I had no idea about. He had this whole other life.
I still don’t really know stuff. I feel like I should know more about his band. There’s massive holes in my memory. And I kind of struggle with his archive in that there’s so much of it.
I’ve been digging through it, trying to make sense of it all.
Trying to see him as an equal rather than putting him on a pedestal. Trying to look at it through adult eyes.”