Lately I’ve been struggling with the concept of memory. Or, I guess the lack of it, the blurriness of it, the impreciseness of it. And the guilt that comes bundled up in that. I don’t remember anything clearly, it’s all muddled together in one big mass, with what seems like entire years getting sifted out, or built over, by other years, other moments. We put a big value on our experiences, they’re all we have, mother culture always says. That makes the memory of them pretty valuable too. Memories as validators. Memories as merit badges. But recollection always comes short, always degrades the data. Each time you recall a memory, your brain changes small pieces of it, making it less and less accurate each time. All of the attempts to record try and remedy this, try and bypass the degradation. I’m more interested in recording the degradation itself. The layers, the falseness, the invented pieces.
This series came from some film that I processed a while ago, but have needed to sit with to see what came out of it. Double exposures, layers of memory. Each time a new layer gets added the old ones get more muddled.
