White Columns Online #30: Bricks of Memory, Fragments of Home
What defines a home? To some of us, it is a particular place where we grew up, an architectural space filled with comfort. To others, it is a memory or an idea of a place鈥搈ore imagined than real. This is often true for immigrants and refugees around the world who have not stepped foot in their homeland in decades or only heard about it in stories passed along from their elders. Many Palestinians carry keys to the homes they were evicted from during the Nakba鈥揳s a symbol of hope and a belief in their eventual return. In the meantime, they build new homes and fill them with memorabilia, recipes from their homeland and a lot of imagination. In an Art21 segment, Michael Rakowitz reflects on how his Iraqi-Jewish grandparents, who immigrated to Long Island, were the first installation artists he ever met: 鈥淓verything that was on the floors was from Iraq, everything that was on the walls was from Iraq, and what was coming out of the kitchen was most definitely from Iraq.鈥� This story resonates across communities who hold onto every bit of their culture as they integrate into a new society. It is particularly evident in New York where a different culture exists in a microcosm on every corner of each block. We can find bits and pieces of Puerto Rico in Angela Cappetta鈥檚 series Glendalis: The Life and World of a Young Latina, a series of photographs that stunningly document the life of a young girl growing up in the Lower East Side. Ruthie Abel鈥檚 work uses the news about migrants risking their life to cross Panama鈥檚 Dari茅n Gap in the Wall Street Journal as her canvas. Mitsuko Brooks鈥� series M.A.P. (Mail Art Project) gathers writing, drawing and stamps, composing letters that will never be mailed out to people that don鈥檛 exist. Anna Cone鈥檚 installation For My Will is as Strong as Yours and My Kingdom as Great examines how our preserved spaces reveal what we choose to honor and remember. Her installation includes different thrifted extravagant objects and furniture pieces that have lived multiple lives and now exist in this fantasy room. One of the pieces is an old display fridge that, according to the artist, absorbs negative energy and demarcates a safe space for trauma recovery. Patricia Miranda鈥檚 sculptures are made of repurposed textile, sometimes found by the artist, and other times donated to her by family members along with stories about the different fabrics. Among the many things donated are aprons and napkins, things that have no real value aside from the stories that follow them. They are collectively sewn together, creating a huge skirt-like sculpture that, through care and precision, imagines the female body as a nurturing space where communities can shelter. Collectively, the works in this show use memory and fantasy to preserve and unveil secrets hidden in objects that make up what we call home, meticulously filling our lives with care and comfort.
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What defines a home? To some of us, it is a particular place where we grew up, an architectural space filled with comfort. To others, it is a memory or an idea of a place鈥搈ore imagined than real. This is often true for immigrants and refugees around the world who have not stepped foot in their homeland in decades or only heard about it in stories passed along from their elders. Many Palestinians carry keys to the homes they were evicted from during the Nakba鈥揳s a symbol of hope and a belief in their eventual return. In the meantime, they build new homes and fill them with memorabilia, recipes from their homeland and a lot of imagination. In an Art21 segment, Michael Rakowitz reflects on how his Iraqi-Jewish grandparents, who immigrated to Long Island, were the first installation artists he ever met: 鈥淓verything that was on the floors was from Iraq, everything that was on the walls was from Iraq, and what was coming out of the kitchen was most definitely from Iraq.鈥� This story resonates across communities who hold onto every bit of their culture as they integrate into a new society. It is particularly evident in New York where a different culture exists in a microcosm on every corner of each block. We can find bits and pieces of Puerto Rico in Angela Cappetta鈥檚 series Glendalis: The Life and World of a Young Latina, a series of photographs that stunningly document the life of a young girl growing up in the Lower East Side. Ruthie Abel鈥檚 work uses the news about migrants risking their life to cross Panama鈥檚 Dari茅n Gap in the Wall Street Journal as her canvas. Mitsuko Brooks鈥� series M.A.P. (Mail Art Project) gathers writing, drawing and stamps, composing letters that will never be mailed out to people that don鈥檛 exist. Anna Cone鈥檚 installation For My Will is as Strong as Yours and My Kingdom as Great examines how our preserved spaces reveal what we choose to honor and remember. Her installation includes different thrifted extravagant objects and furniture pieces that have lived multiple lives and now exist in this fantasy room. One of the pieces is an old display fridge that, according to the artist, absorbs negative energy and demarcates a safe space for trauma recovery. Patricia Miranda鈥檚 sculptures are made of repurposed textile, sometimes found by the artist, and other times donated to her by family members along with stories about the different fabrics. Among the many things donated are aprons and napkins, things that have no real value aside from the stories that follow them. They are collectively sewn together, creating a huge skirt-like sculpture that, through care and precision, imagines the female body as a nurturing space where communities can shelter. Collectively, the works in this show use memory and fantasy to preserve and unveil secrets hidden in objects that make up what we call home, meticulously filling our lives with care and comfort.
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