“Anemonia” refers to the feeling of nostalgia that arises when encountering certain images or music—a strange familiarity and sense of belonging, even to a time you’ve never actually lived through. This project explores how memory is not a static record of the past but a simulation, shaped by both objective facts and subjective perceptions. New insights can color old memories, just as memories themselves reshape our present. In this overwhelming world of constant images and information, finding a meaningful connection to the world—and to one’s own identity—can feel elusive. With Marta, I revisit scenes and emotions from childhood, recreating them through photographs and pairing them with fragments of text. These are not literal memories, but emotional echoes: a gesture, a light, a color. Each image becomes part of a collage—a second creation. It’s an attempt to archive not what was, but what was felt. I’m a nostalgic person myself. The farther back in time something happened, the more clearly I seem to remember it. But memory is tricky, and the tension between what we recall and what actually occurred fascinates me. In listening to each woman’s coming-of-age story, I hope to uncover shared emotional ground—an empathy that flows through both word and image.
“Anemonia” refers to the feeling of nostalgia that arises when encountering certain images or music—a strange familiarity and sense of belonging, even to a time you’ve never actually lived through. This project explores how memory is not a static record of the past but a simulation, shaped by both objective facts and subjective perceptions. New insights can color old memories, just as memories themselves reshape our present. In this overwhelming world of constant images and information, finding a meaningful connection to the world—and to one’s own identity—can feel elusive. With Marta, I revisit scenes and emotions from childhood, recreating them through photographs and pairing them with fragments of text. These are not literal memories, but emotional echoes: a gesture, a light, a color. Each image becomes part of a collage—a second creation. It’s an attempt to archive not what was, but what was felt. I’m a nostalgic person myself. The farther back in time something happened, the more clearly I seem to remember it. But memory is tricky, and the tension between what we recall and what actually occurred fascinates me. In listening to each woman’s coming-of-age story, I hope to uncover shared emotional ground—an empathy that flows through both word and image.
- Silence
- Light’n Up, Girls
- Architechture
- Washing Machine
- and Bakery