Markers of Memory, 2019

Memories fade into the back of the mind, returning to consciousness for brief moments here and there. These hands reach forward – they clutch, they grasp, they stretch – towards moments that have been withered by the passing of time, or that soon will fade with the rest. The moments are vague and blurred, are clouded in darkness; it is the cracks of light that help us remember, the sharp flickers of patterned fabric, or the familiar shine of the door-handle. And as soon as we are within the memory, we just as quickly move away from it. The outside world blurs with the inside, and these hands are forever fumbling towards something that will always be fading out of existence.