Everything We Love We Will Lose

What sits behind this work is a longer process of research and listening. Over two years, the artists explored the histories of Clandon Park and Woking, returning to the theme of loss. At Clandon, the 2015 fire left the building physically scarred, and what is so striking is that this damage has not been hidden. Instead, it has been acknowledged and held in place, becoming part of how the building is understood today. The idea of not covering over loss, but allowing it to remain visible, runs quietly through the exhibition.

The artists were also drawn to the collections themselves. At Lightbox, Victorian mourning lace offers a way of thinking about how grief was once made visible and worn on the body, recognised socially. At Clandon, fragments of ceramics recovered from the fire sit somewhere between broken and remade. Some have been carefully bonded back together, while others remain as fragments. Neither state is presented as better than the other. Instead, they quietly ask what it means to be changed by loss, and how we carry that forward.

At the heart of the exhibition is something that is still difficult to articulate openly: grief, and in particular, pregnancy and baby loss. Through their research, the artists encountered stories in the collections, including references to miscarriage and stillbirth that had often been overlooked or under-acknowledged. This led them to work closely with local women who have experienced pregnancy loss themselves. These workshops became central to the project. The conversations were honest, sometimes difficult, and deeply generous. They shaped not only the artworks, but the tone of the entire exhibition.

What emerges is not a single story, but a space held by multiple voices. One participant describes her child not as lost, but as still present in different ways— in warmth, in memory, and in the changes that the experience has brought to her life. That sense of ongoing connection, rather than simple absence, feels important here. One of the most thoughtful outcomes of these workshops is the Forget Me Not Temporary Tattoo. Inspired by mourning lace, the design was developed collectively and then realised with tattoo artist Ella Bell. Visitors are invited to receive two tattoos with their ticket: one for themselves and one to give to someone else who may have experienced loss. That gesture feels significant. It extends the exhibition beyond the gallery, creating a small, personal act of remembrance that can be shared. It also broadens the idea of grief beyond bereavement. As the artists suggest, loss might be the end of a relationship, a friendship, or a shift in life, something that matters deeply but is not always publicly recognised.

There are other moments where visitors are invited to participate. Through Epitaphs for Living, you can write your own future epitaph on a postcard and add it to the wall. It is a simple act, but often a powerful one. Pausing to consider how we want to be remembered brings us back to how we are living now. These contributions will go on to form part of a lasting public artwork, installed both at Lightbox and at Clandon Park, extending the life of the project beyond the exhibition itself.

The exhibition also draws on local histories of remembrance. Brookwood Cemetery, one of the largest cemeteries in Europe, becomes an important reference point. Its landscapes of graves, flowers in various states of decay, and carefully written epitaphs have directly influenced the artists’ thinking. These connections root the exhibition in place, linking personal grief to broader histories and shared rituals.

Running through all of this is a wider way of thinking about grief, drawn from Francis Weller’s The Wild Edge of Sorrow. His idea of the Five Gates of Grief suggests that grief is not only about death. It includes everything we love and stand to lose, the parts of ourselves and our communities that have been wounded, and even the losses we experience in relation to the natural world. This is particularly resonant here. The exhibition does not try to resolve grief or give answers. Instead, it offers space to acknowledge it, to sit with it, and to recognise its connection to love, gratitude, and renewal.

There are moments within the exhibition—through text, film, and poetry—that reinforce this sense of shared experience. One idea that has stayed with me is that grief is not simply sorrow, but a reflection of connection, attachment, and the ways we hold memory. That feels like the thread running through everything here.