Filed under: Art Gallery | Tags: coraopolis, impossible project, loss, memory, polaroid week 2015, slr680
During fall Polaroid week, I chose images that are personal to me, rooted in nostalgia that I’ve been – to move forward, it helps for me to look back, and somehow, through art, it comes full circle. After sharing stories with a childhood friend about our old neighborhood, I visited to capture it on film. It had been almost five years since I was back on Broadway [real street name], but my heart did a little leap when I spotted it: On the sidewalk by the porch, my mother had traced her name in the cement. I photographed it shortly after she died – I had forgotten it was there, and to find it was a great surprise. I’ve thought of it as a memorial, a place I could go when I felt the need to see her. I feared time took hold and it disappeared, but there it was, her name standing out among the cracks in the pavement. So Jeff and I sat on the sidewalk, leaning against the giant white house converted into apartments (my mum, sister and me on the first floor, an exotic dancer and her daughter, on the second), swapping memories. The tiny cottage owned by the couple with the Doberman that chased kids on their bikes, now bulldozed. My friend Amber’s backyard – in full bloom, and comforting to see the wooden shed still standing 30 years later. Across the street, our neighbor Julia’s house is converting to a storefront, its previous incarnation years before the ’80s when we were kids using t-shirts as makeshift baskets to carry tomatoes from her garden to my mother – gifts Julia offered when she couldn’t find the English words to tell us that if we needed anything, we knew where to find her.
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