Since my mother’s death, the Lot, in France, has become populated differently for me. The landscape still looks the same, yet it contains another layer: memories attached to houses, gardens, roads, meals, voices and gestures that no longer exist in the present. The Dead Are Not Elsewhere comes from the intuition that the dead do not simply occupy some distant beyond. They remain embedded in the material world we continue to inhabit. Not as ghosts in a supernatural sense, but as structures of memory, affection and attention. Loss changes the landscape because it changes the person who looks at it.