Nicole Johnson

‘While my grandmother threw away pictures to hide or forget the past, my foster mother documented my childhood.’

Lee was a diorama-maker, criminal investigation educator and the first female police captain in the US.

‘It is a shrine to the people who helped raise me – a marriage of memories from my past and those I continue to create.’

For two non-biological sisters, tea time is the thread that keeps them tethered – across time, distance, and even death.

Navigating the world without my biological mother would not have been possible without the women who chose to raise me.

A partnership of 20 years, even a broken one, isn’t one you leave on a Thursday night without discussion.

My birthday, along with so many other details of my life, had gotten caught up and swallowed by his addiction.

So different from the women she grew up with, my grandmother rocked a hot pink housecoat while pursuing her career.

They looked at my ocean, lived my dream. My mother’s other daughter was the me that I wished I could be.

When a plant arrives after her mother’s death, a girl finds in it the parent who never had the chance to care for her.