Yesteryear
Yesteryear is a multi-media project that examines the fragility of memory, the grief of unexpected loss, and the fear of forgetting the intimate details that tether us to those we love. Rooted in personal history, the work reflects on how death—especially when sudden—reshapes our relationship with the past, and with the memories that begin to blur with time.
- The Super 8 component consists of three silent films displayed on separate screens, each representing a chapter of life: beginning, middle, and end. Sourced from restored footage of my mother’s childhood, the films are tender, nostalgic fragments that mirror the nonlinear way we remember. The final reel ends abruptly—without resolution—as a reminder that life can be taken at any moment, often without warning or farewell.
- The black-and-white film photography explores spiritual and emotional liminality—moving between images of Christian iconography, symbolic depictions of heaven and purgatory, and quiet moments from past travels. These photographs serve as visual echoes of memories I’m afraid to lose: the way someone laughed, the smell of a place, the softness of a touch. Included in this body of work are three large-format self-portraits, in which I appear as a quiet observer—looking out, around, and within—searching for the fragments of memories that are slipping away. These portraits offer a visual metaphor for the act of remembrance itself: intimate, uncertain, and incomplete.
- Sound plays a vital role in immersing viewers within the emotional and spiritual landscape of Yesteryear. The exhibition’s soundscape blends the distant tolling of church bells, the whisper of wind, and fragmented, distorted voices—recordings of people who have passed away in my life. These sounds drift in and out like fading memories, creating an auditory presence of absence, evoking both reverence and haunting intimacy.
