"memories" 

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on a used small medical text book i started to carve out memories i never had in photographs i forgot i’d taken. where these people suddenly were not there. photos of friends, who appear in snippets throughout (and are featured on the back of the cover), become faceless, anonymous, and endless.

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the spine of the book had stretched. the pages did not lay flat, unacquainted with one another. the book itself looked battered, well loved, or forgotten. the cut out silhouettes lay on top of photos that more or less were mere moments in time - hard to decipher, lights blurred, no focus in the shot. with there being no true subject, although the space is filled, it is still empty. the use of choice sentimental remarks strung throughout can either seem insolent and insidious or awfully melancholy, depending on how one chooses to look at this project.

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i believe this scrapbook of scraps lends itself to be whimsical and tragic and strange and thought-provoking all at the same time, as the concept of the tangible photo album and the photographs we choose to remember our lives by is explored in the casual format of this repurposed red threaded medical text (the pages yellowed, smelling familiar, like all of your favorite library books, those ones where you  felt more alive by just holding in your hand).