We understand photography as taking something from time, you "take a picture" and do what you want with it, it has then become the Photographer's possession. Humans do exactly the same (sic) with memories. Ere the invention of cameras, the only way to prove to yourself that something was real, was to root through the weaving web of electrical signals that have now become slightly numb, and seldom did this prevail.
After trying to deal with some issues I have been facing with memory this week, I would like to see this blog as being an archive similar to a substitute brain. Each post is, in turn, a photograph (even if it does not include a graphic representation, which it will), a week long exposure of my thoughts that will serve well as a memory; something I can fish out of the garbage bin that is my brain in years to come.
Thanks for your time.
This photograph has no aesthetic power really, but is a reminder of memory to me personally. I see this image every time I walk to university. Not a lot of people will recognize it, but that is probably because they do not notice their routine. This photograph is a representation of my memory, both semiotic and aesthetic. Let's just say, there are a few grey-areas dotted around both my cognative state and the city I live in.
‘We shall take language, discourse, speech etc., to mean any significant unit or synthesis, whether verbal or visual: a photograph will be a kind of speech for us in the same way as a newspaper article, even objects will become speech, if they mean something.’
- Roland Barthes
Song listening to right now: Go your own way - Fleetwood Mac