memories to hold (on to)

I collect memories. In photos, in stone, old corks from bottles of wine we shared on special occasions. I have polaroids of all the places I lived, a shoebox filled with pictures of the people I love, albums stuffed with images from my travels. I made an occasional painting and drawings of things that remind me of our shared moments. I held onto the scent in the clothes she once wore, her ashes, a strand of hair. I gather souvenirs, second-hand clothes from the countries I visited. I save receipts, movie tickets, train stubs. In my memory box, I keep the letters they wrote to me, shells we found together, the lucky charms they gave me. I collect the physical traces of people, places, and experiences I’ve encountered and want to hold onto because I’m afraid of forgetting them.

The attempt to immortalize something intangible, like a moment or experience, happens for many reasons. For me, the fear of forgetting is often the driving force. However, during discussions about the theme of this exhibition, I quickly realized that the seemingly inevitable impulse to capture memories stems from different motivations. I also learned that for some, this act is more compulsive than for others, as if for one the fleeting nature of things is easier to accept than for the other. Capturing a memory, whether in the moment or afterwards, serves various purposes. 

It can act as an archival practice or a way to share with others who are not there in the moment with you. The object created can also serve as a mirror for (self-)reflection or as promotional material to spread ideas or highlight overlooked issues. Materializing a memory additionally allows us to bridge time and distance. Yet, a common thread underlies these efforts: the transient and perishable nature of memory itself drives the attempt to immortalize it in material form.