My Mother Tells Me
My Mother Tells Me is a plea coming from a place of fear – to not be forgotten. Raising questions around memory, I aim to consider the boundaries of lived experience. What you haven’t lived yourself, isn’t relative to this notion of the memory being erased. But how can it be told, that it belongs to someplace more than the boundaries of your own lived experiences?
The plea is to my children: I’m asking them to understand my experience of childhood, even though they’re unable to relate to my birthplace, no photographs to browse or people like a grandfather they never met, to connect with.
In order to tell the story, this moving image work brings together archival images and reconstructed photographs. It is narrated by my daughter and told from her perspective. By employing this method, I am a step closer to converting what is mine, to what is ours.
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Sevim Dogan OzkanPhotographer
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Genres:People
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Date Taken:October 1, 2021
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Country of Origin:Australia
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Camera:Canon 5D Mark II
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Lens:24-105mm, 100mm, 70-200mm
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Student Project:Yes - RMIT University
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Melbourne
November 8, 2021
The 5th Noel Counihan Commemorative Art Award -
Melbourne
August 1, 2021
Robyn Beech Photography Award finalist -
Melbourne
February 1, 2022
Ballarat International Foto Biennale GradFoto festival finallist
Sevim Dogan Ozkan is a photographer, writer and artist based in Melbourne. She is a recent graduate of RMIT and has previous studies in photojournalism.
Sevim's work derives from the notions of identity, belonging, memory and her childhood which she describes as extremely different from her children's childhood.
Sevim was the winner of the 5th Noel Counihan Commemorative Art Award 2021. She was also a finalist in Robyn Beech Photography Award, Ballarat International Foto Biennale GradFoto 2021 award and others in previous years.
My Mother Tells Me is a plea coming from a place of fear – to not be forgotten. Raising questions around memory, I aim to consider the boundaries of lived experience. What you haven’t lived yourself, isn’t relative to this notion of the memory being erased. But how can it be told, that it belongs to someplace more than the boundaries of your own lived experiences?
The plea is to my children: I’m asking them to understand my experience of childhood, even though they’re unable to relate to my birthplace, no photographs to browse or people like a grandfather they never met, to connect with.
In order to tell the story, this moving image work brings together archival images and reconstructed photographs. It is narrated by my daughter and told from her perspective. By employing this method, I am a step closer to converting what is mine, to what is ours.