Rain and mist swath the view of the coastline from the cottage overlooking the atlantic sea here in west cork. A lot has happened over the last few weeks and this week in Ireland has given me time to reflect, gather myself for london life and see how to progress with this project. Two weeks ago my grandmother died and shortly after her son, my father, suffered from a serious heart problem. I broke off my stay in Sweden to return to london for Inge's funeral. Despite the emotional upheaval it caused for us and especially for my father, it gave me a further push to explore the family history. Someone said to me once that 'when an old person dies its like a library burning down'. This is more and more poignant to me as I gather small pieces of information here and there about the family through speaking with relatives. I think of some of my family who have died and the wealth of stories they must have carried with them to the grave. It saddens me. However it reaffirms my feeling that history is how the teller tells it. The stories remembered by others and how they interpret them are what make memories and myths live. A 'red thread' from one person to another. Is it possible to express this catalytic process visually? This is a key question i have in regards to how much or how little I document my impressions of the family. The possiblities are endless. I painted my grandma Inge's funeral from memory the next day on the train ride to Berlin.
It felt liberating to trust my own memory, to not worry if the details were absolutely correct. Does this matter? Do I make records from memory or pure observation? So far I have done both but always with the hope of capturing some truth whether emotional (how the person I am painting is feeling) or 'factual' (where or how they live)....
TLB
No comments:
Post a Comment