Fugue by Lydia Goldblatt is a body of work about love and grief, mothering and losing a mother, intimacy and distance, told through photographs and writing. Centring on the domestic space and made over the course of four years, it tells a story that is neither apologetic nor idealised. When Goldblatt became a mother she found herself unable to make pictures. However, after her own mother died, she began to photograph again, both at home and in the city around her. 'I wanted to be honest about what I was struggling with, about the feelings of claustrophobia and rage, as much as intimacy and love. These are feelings so often hidden by mothers, so often silenced as unacceptable.' Goldblatt works on medium-format film; when she began this series the process was blind, and she didn't see the images she was making for months, allowing her to slow down and develop a way of looking and feeling intuitively. The photographs depict a rhythm of domestic life, the passing of days and seasons, the stillness of objects contrasted against small children moving in and out of frame and everchanging light, drawing upon small details—the texture of skin, assorted sheets, mops, houseplants and mirrors—imparting not a record of life, but a feeling.