Rachel Jump // Origins
Over the last year, my mother endured countless invasive and painful procedures after a doctor discovered multiple cysts during a mammogram. One
morning, my mother complained of a deep ache emanating from her breasts. She was visiting a physician later that day and wanted me to help her indicate
the origin of her pain. Tenderly holding a black pen in one hand, and holding her shirt with the other, she laid a delicate trail of marks across her chest. The
dark spots constellated across her skin, unveiling the cosmos within her cysts.
She showed me her pain, and I saw the stars.
Later, I delicately felt my own chest, wondering if her universe was hiding within my skin.
The core of my photographic practice stems from a place of pure empathy- a desire to share my story within the collective human experience. My visual trajectory has always centered on the disparate nature of my own family, and my desire to create a sense of intimacy among us.
For most of my childhood, my family’s life was scattered over countless households. My faded memories of these places merely composed a fragmented idea of home. Photography finally provided a way in which I could eternalize these fleeting moments. As a way to cope with these disparate feelings, I created a narrative hoping to join these places and reconnect with my family.
My photographs are relics of loss; traces of a family that I tried to piece back