Adapted Memories
Discarded family albums, faded negatives, torn bits of photographs + scrapbooks full of meticulously detailed holidays… These are remnants of the nostalgic efforts of individuals trying to preserve and hold on to fond memories to re-experience later, or to hand down to future generations. But what happens when the intended trajectory of these artifacts of time is interrupted?
With the warmth of familiarity removed, can an artificial nostalgia evoke some of the same feelings?
These items cleared out at estate sales, piled high in boxes with random household junk at flea markets, no longer have an associated individual to provide the factual context. What’s left in the timeline of these images, is a stranger’s applied imagination. For them to continue ‘living’, they need new eyes cast upon them and new stories devoted.
“Adapted Memories” is a series that seeks to do just that through the use of collage and reinterpretation.
A few months ago, I acquired a small unassuming box at a flea market labeled:
“Italy, 1956, Uli Menwald, Black”
59 glass slides were carefully numbered and labeled by the unknown photographer. The vast ocean of the internet yielded no easily discernible results as relevant to his identity.
Beautiful mountainous landscapes, a lady in a floral print dress exploring a snowy hillside, and bustling Venice street scenes weave a narrative of an inspirational trip.
I have made Mr. Menwald an unknowing collaborator. I’m applying a melancholy connotation to his images as it is easy to romanticize the past, especially when it has been captured in exquisite black and white. Would he approve, or would he be appalled as some of you likely are at my sacrilegious tampering with originals?
If I did nothing, would I not just be hoarding someone else’s memories, appreciating the fragile slides for their aesthetic beauty until I die? The chance of them meeting their fate again of being discarded or ending up in a chaotic jumble of junk would likely only repeat itself…
