Showing posts with label The Frontal Cortex. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Frontal Cortex. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Forget Me Not

I stumbled across an interesting site called photomuse from a link on the ICP Web site, which I found on The Frontal Cortex blog. I came across images from a 2005 exhibit called Forget Me Not: Photography and Remembrance. Take a look at some photos from the collection:

Portrait of a young woman with wax flower wreath from exhibit on Photomuse.org
Makers unknown (American),
Portrait of a young woman with wax flower wreath,
c.1890
Albumen print, copper plate with impressed words “At Rest”, wax flowers and butterflies, woven human hair, wooden frame with glass
87.2 x 82.0 x 19.0 cm
Private Collection

Portrait of husband and wife on their wedding day from exhibit on Photomuse.org
Makers unknown (American),
Portrait of husband and wife on their wedding day,
c.1890
Albumen print on card (cabinet card), rosette, veil, wooden frame with glass
40.0 x 31.5 cm
Private Collection

These remind me of Denise's collages--only without witty stories or funny punchlines. See the press release from this exhibit. I really wish I could have seen this exhibit in person but the catalog will have to suffice. I can hardly wait until it arrives.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Living on…

I was reading on The Frontal Cortex blog about the limits of technology to capture the world around us and early fears that photographs and cinema would make art and artists obsolete. I found the quote Lehrer posted from one early cinema critic really interesting.

“…but with movement, action, familiar gesture and the words out of their mouths, then death will not longer be absolute, final.”

How comforting I find the images of my Dad, who will be gone 7 years this month. It is strange to me that I find comfort in the still images; frozen bits of memories of those dear to me, yet seeing movies starring actors who have died makes me feel sort of sad and empty. As if somehow seeing their familiar gestures and hearing the words from their mouths emphasizes that they are now lost to us.

My Dad as a young boy with his pup.

Working as a drafter.

Getting married.

Daddy