Margaret Ann Bushby
Or as I knew her Grandma Meg.
Lately I've been doing a photography brief My view, My world or something along them lines!
As you can read in previous blogs my past and my birth place has been of some interest regarding this assessment....Looking into the old village history of Esh Winning and its walks. It has signs of a time forgotten everywhere.(mining village but also brick works). For whatever reason this I felt this had a massive pull on my self, questions about the place, people and working life of families but also the history.. Some of my own family members had worked down the mines. I guess when thinking of my self, part of my upbringing played a big part of shaping of who I am..........
Upon a recent visit I went to visit my own fathers grave, It was on this visit I was reminded of the story of my Grandma Meg.
Margaret Ann Bushby was a devoted wife, mother and grandmother. I used the word DEVOTED in every sense of the word. Like many women in the 1940's onwards, my grandma was young when married and bringing up a family of 11 soon afterwards......
Her husband my late grandfather William Bushby was a miner, and liked nothing more than a couple of pints after work. He was a proud man and liked a clean home. It was his way or no way, Meg was often given a reminder of his authority, as well as the enforcement of his power on the children. Do as I say or feel the consequences type of man.
Life was tough for many families in these days, many women married into a life of control and battery.
One story that I've heard since his passing was of the relief she'd felt when he did pass!
On that week of this death, Meg had been send for his fish and chips as usual as she did every week on a friday (note her and kids didn't get such a treat)
The fish shop had ran out of haddock and so Meg returned with cod and chips instead. William being the shit and bully that he was, sent the plate flying back through the air directly into her face! All hell broke loose and as usual Meg had another beating and black eye. Something she had been accustomed too by now...
A few days later my Grandfather past away and this for me was where my story begins...You see on the day of her husbands funeral, black wasn't just the colour of her outfit, she still wore the shiner he had given her a day or two beforehand.
Relieved by the death Meg still had to play the part of a grieving wife and so to help herself do this, on the morning of the burial she secretly cut an onion into small pieces and placed them into her handkerchief........Finally a reason to cry....I guess William had harden her heart and soul over the years! Even crying tears of joy would of been a lot to ask from a broken women after a while.
Meg was a tough women who endured a lot. Bringing up 11 children as well as losing twins, while keeping a home and a husband happy....she went on to live a long life but made sure that when she did pass that she wasn't to be buried in with my grandfather....She made it clear to all that she was damned if she would spend another second of time dead or alive with this so called man......I would like to create a still life set up to photograph the story behind domestic abuse and the endurance of love.....marriage and til death us do part. fragile and powerful, the hidden hurt and the strength it would take to live in such a set up.
After 5 (what I call serious relationships) I can't understand the power or control someone can have over another! I've never wanted marriage because I didn't feel I could love anyone enough to bring me down so low and to actually put up with it..... I guess I thought that it was expected or being part of being in love to have such commiment and feeling had to be/could only ever be real love.. and so I couldn't of ever truly loved another until I had my children...
My own mother did the same with my father (above Robert Bushby appropriately buried next to his father) took the beatings and jealously, broke down to near death, broken ribs, back, black eyes week in week out all while bringing up myself and younger brother, until one day we left for good.
I thought that I myself must not have loved, (loved someone which such commitment) as I would never stand for something like that, I never married and I guess was somewhat guarded when it came to relationships because of the things I witnessed. Why and how did/do people put up with such abuse? Its not just women either, men get it too...... Was my dad just showing learnt behavior from what he witnessed growing up? Was it a good enough excuse for my mother to forgive him.....Even years later my mum while not together with my dad still said of her love for him!!! The real love too!!
I would love to make a photo with this as a hidden meaning.......either as a fashion/interior photograph or an actual playing of scene! A still life with a hand crushing a real heart,over a broken plate (white,black and royal blue in colour) on which sits some more in keeping objects, like shadows and colours, even an onion and handkerchief... a butter knife to smooth over the cracks or hard edges, a light etc
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