While dismantling my parents’ home in Toronto, I found my late mother’s wedding dress hanging in an empty closet, in an 1950s dry-cleaning bag. The dress, with its lace, tulle and beads was faded, but still beautiful after sixty years. I was struck by the image of a bridal dress encased in a zipped plastic bag, which, in the dark closet, resembled a body bag. I reached for my camera. A few months later, back in Vancouver, I came across the photographs, and I was haunted by the imagery: innocence and death, beauty and decay. I’m pursuing this now in the Wedding Series.