We are all haunted by objects; we imbue trinkets and miscellaneous memorabilia with power over us by associating them with someone whose absence we suffer. Coping with the inevitability of the failure of our memories, we assign objects and photographs the burden of proof. We cling to these remains hoping they will always supply what we fear we will forget. We take photos of ourselves and those we love, hoping to solidify their existence and thus solidify our own. Attempting to immortalize those we care for in photographs, we are providing ourselves with partial glimpses, a fragmented grasp at a small moment in an accumulated sense of someone we cannot bear to forget.

 

What becomes of all the objects and photographs that have become separated from the individuals for whom they were meaningful, entering into the ubiquitous cycle of anonymous ephemera that fill antiques stores and flea markets in every corner of the world? Do these objects still contain a recognizable sense of collective loss that is identifiable by virtue of our humanity? This work explores the nature of memory and the way we are impacted by it both personally and collectively. Examining the simulacrum of absence and memory as seen in discarded objects and anonymous photographs, one senses that memory begets memory, and that the personal and the public are forever entwined.