When my mother, Mable Ball Mihaly, who had Alzheimer’s, died, my brother & I donated many of her possessions, sold some, tossed others & stashed those that were hardest to part with in the attic. That echoey top floor had also become the repository for the belongings & mementos that I’d clung to from my own past lives. Not long ago I decided to take stock of what’s upstairs, hoping to record & memorialize the stored photos & objects before bidding them a final farewell. I also wanted to use them as a springboard to create work that embodies the spirit of the people, places & times they conjure, as well as the influence all have had on me. Working on The Attic has been at times funny, often joyful, frequently painful, but always powerful.
Excerpts from Julie Mihaly's The Attic