Eugenie

‘That night the blind man dreamt that he was blind.’ José Saramago

Eugenie unexpectedly suffered from a stroke in her forties, which left her severely visually impaired and stole large parts of her memory.

I met her around ten years later, at a time when I was experiencing my own grief and loss.

I was introduced to Eugenie through the Haringey Phoenix Group, a North London based charity for blind and partially sighted people. I started to visit her once a week, and carried on for three and a half years, watching her continuously transition into a different way of life.

My camera allowed me to immerse myself in her anxiety, her grief, sadness, relentless frustration, her determination, strength, fragility and her joy. I invited the reality of being human to seep through my lens, revealing as much as I could about Eugenie and myself with honesty, and I let go of trying to fill the void between expectation and reality.

Eugenie became a beautiful friend, who allowed me to produce a series of emotional observations of her and of myself. I spent my time drifting in circles whilst trying to move on, as I watched her do the same. The work is a truth, whether it is Eugenie’s, mine, or a blur of both.