During any life event, it is easy to inadvertently obstruct moments by becoming too engrossed in recording devices. But without photographs or other memory aids, one must rely wholly on flawed human memory to recall treasured moments.
This photo series is an experiment in capturing memories retroactively.
I grew up visiting great grandmother’s house almost every day. When I was there, I never thought to pull out a camera and preserve special little moments — my grandma cooking, doing laundry, working in her shed, or relaxing in front of the television — until it became impossible.
After she passed away, my memories of her began to soften. Sharp impressions rounded out and became warmer, even to the point of idealization. I grew afraid of the important parts disappearing altogether.
About a year later, I traveled home to capture this effect and, hopefully, halt its progression.
The human mind preserves few events perfectly. Mine betrays me, imposing false artifacts on my most pristine recollections, altering them and instilling fiction. These alterations overwrite parts of even my most permanently fixed memories. Three-dimensional objects positioned on the paper in the darkroom illustrate elements of this process that cannot be captured through a lens.