With time, objects begin to store memories. They bear the scars and rewards of touch, movement, wear and age. The bath that has pressed against the family’s skin, their thighs, wrists and the soles of their feet, is worn and scratched. The 1970’s Sanyo record player bears the dings and scoring of being bumped and moved during its lifetime. It is still and silent after years of making noise and moving slowly.

As though someone could actually know an object and all its memories, Breckon photographically documents the objects that surrounded the family as they grew up, creating facsimiles of the touchstones of childhood in gloriously painstaking detail. The objects have been photographed from every possible angle and stitched together again, flat and glossy as though they have been dissected and then sutured back into anatomically correct, yet slightly disquieted models of themselves. The photographically skinned objects are intensely focused, meticulously detailed documents of memory and dimension. Text by Pippa Milne.