I have started to stage photographs, creating physical manifestations of transferred and unconscious memories. They take on a retro aesthetic, suggesting the relevance the past has on my life. The polaroids are reminiscent of those seen in old photo albums, which, as a child, I would spend hours engulfed by each image, creating narratives from what I saw. The stories in my head were entirely fictitious and did not represent real events. Through introspection, I have realised how my mum, nan, great-grandmothers, and my past have made me the woman I am today.

Is it possible to escape the burden of epigenetics? Or will the cycle continue to repeat?