Fragile memory
2024
Turning to the cartography of the self, drawn through the prism of family memory, I find evidence that our “I” does not emerge from nowhere. It grows from the soil of specific destinies, breathes the air of certain eras, is formed by glances in old photographs and whispers of words in yellowed letters. Studying the family archive means holding shards of mirrors in your hands, putting together your reflection. This is a journey into the past, which becomes the most important journey inside yourself, giving rootedness, understanding, strength and, ultimately, the freedom to be the author of your own life, sensitively listening to the voices of those whose blood flows in your veins. This is a process that is vital for anyone who is looking not just for a biography, but for the depth of their own existence.
At the age of sixteen, I left my parents' home. I went far away and spent a long time writing letters to my aging grandparents. And then, many years later, they sent me a suitcase with a large archive of family photographs and personal belongings of my relatives who are no longer with me.
It is difficult to relive and comprehend the past, which revealed events to me that changed my memories of my family. There is no longer a single person nearby who could shed light on the family history, only letters, photographs and things. The situation between me and the things in the suitcase was an unbearably poignant longing for loved ones, the suitcase became a ghost from the past, gave birth to the fear of ignorance, the pain of what was missed and the desire to find out what time had hidden.
I began to use photography as a tool for establishing contact with things, laying them out and recording them. Through recording, I present what is hidden as visible, experiencing and feeling them is an important stage of recording. At the same time, I present my memory as elements of the landscape in order to be able to complete, understand, go out and build bridges of memory.
Working with a personal archive, I restore family ties and identity, the similarity of characters, compare my life line and the loved one I resemble. Destroying time boundaries, I enter the past through letters. I see “another me” when I wrote to their relatives 30 years ago. This is the ability to exist in two spaces at the same time, without any contradictions. Letters make it clear that you exist, but you exist as “another me.” I record, remember and move on.
The letters that my grandparents kept, letters and photographs from relatives, open up an understanding of family relationships, love and support, life, which developed differently for all children, and much was not indicated, much was closed to me, ambiguous, now it becomes clear. Grandfather met grandmother before the war, and before his mobilization (he was 19 years old) they got married.
There are so many faces in the photographs that I cannot identify, and I no longer know who they were. I compare the inscriptions on the backs with names, years and faces. I read the signatures and phrases that the sender wrote. And suddenly I find similarities, similarities of faces, similarities of characters, I cling to this opportunity to be close and now with the person in the photo. My sister is a copy of our grandmother, this was the first discovery of working with the archive, and so much became clear, we talked about it so much. The strong resemblance of my son to his great-grandmother surprised and touched me… This sea of feelings that rocks my consciousness inside, my fragile world of calm…
