In this video work I have attempted to raise an alter in worship and remembrance of the moments in my life, joyous and miserable, that I will forget and have already forgotten.
The sheer volume of a brain's potential for memory storage is colossus next to the sliver of experience I actively engage with on a day-to-day level, and as I grow older and time seems to pass more quickly this disproportion only grows more massive. I have created this work to try and make peace with the fact that I will not remember the many people I have been and the many things I have done. I will continue to shape my life around the things that matter to me most, but this is just one current brushing against me in an ocean of experience I've drifted in for only two decades.
Three levels exist in the portrayal of my forgotten past - text I have written over the past three years in the form of journal entries in prose and poetry, photographs I have taken over the past 2 years, and the voices of human beings I have surrounded myself with over the course of my whole life, reading my writing, over images of my photographs shot through a kaleidoscope.
The visual and aural aspects of this piece are not in direct dialogue with each other purposefully- the distance between the places I shot photographs and the words beings spoken over them is real, just like the distance from where I was then to where I am now. The distance between the voices and the words they read is as real as the distance between my mental self in a moment of extreme passion, late at night, and the clear headed individual who wakes up the next morning feeling nothing.
Ultimately these thoughts and feelings and images are mine only in the historical knowledge that I, at one time, apparently produced them. They are unique only in their specific relation to my life, and, I like to believe, they could exist as the personal fragments of any other transforming human being.
Sincerely, Everyone I've Been is about feeling disconnected from myself, but connected to everyone else through that same feeling. I don't remember making these memories - maybe I didn't. Maybe you did. Maybe we all have, together. I have recorded the only things for certain: that someone experienced places of beauty, feelings of pain and joy, and found words to transcribe them.
Thanks to my friends and family who contributed their voices:
Loading more stuff…
Hmm…it looks like things are taking a while to load. Try again?