For better or worse, everything we see, say and do is tied to a future or past memory. For instance, if you’re a Tracy Chapman fan—did her opening guitar riff of “Fast Cars” on the recent grammy awards show bring back memories? If you heard the whole song for the first time that night and really liked it, I say that you’ve manufactured a memory that will stay with you forever. It’s likely you’ll have no control over when that memory pops into your head again.
I believe memories are a strong barometer of our emotional ties to our senses. That’s why movies, music, and photographs affects us in deeply emotional ways.
My memories below are in Coffey Park. Red Hook, Brooklyn. A local park where I spent a lot of time in my early years. I don’t admit it much, but my memories about it are both awful and happy. So much that I created a self portrait series in my college years reflecting on it.
As told in an earlier newsletter, my teen and adult life has always been centered on photography. Many of my memories are revived by imagery. They’re linked to the places and moments in time I’ve been. Your experiences should not be much different.
I never got to play on this basketball court, or even get to enjoy the sport because of struggles in growing up around alpha types who vied for “top dog” status. I did get to play handball more often though, the courts are off to the right side of this view. Goes without saying, it didn’t always look like this.
As an introvert in poverty, where does one go for recreation on a Saturday or Sunday? Movie? Not every weekend. Theater? Not really—if at all. I believe that’s a major reason I gravitated towards photography. It was accessible enough though not cheap.
Today’s selfies are yesteryear’s self portraits, I believe they’re artistic people having conversations with themselves. Equivalent to looking in the mirror and manifesting thoughts about, and into reality by saying them out loud.
I’m ranting a bit because those memories hit hard when they do. These are a visual representation of the ghost memories left behind.
As always, I thank you for reading this newsletter through.
Til next time…
Kenneth