Cache
Cache
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My family roots back to England, but I was born in Israel. I was a child on
a fence; a daughter to a migrating family. The house within culturally
stayed European but outside was the Israeli controversial culture. I always
felt a misfit with my partial incomplete identity; torn apart between
parents who have never blended in to the Middle Eastern culture I felt only
half belonged too. Over the years I have heard of my parent’s memories and
stories. I remember hearing of snow, youth and happiness. Stories of
happier days. The stories held on to the memories of time and culture that
I wasn’t a part of, and portraits of family members that always remained
anonymous to me and their faces where no more distinct than any other
person in generic photo album. These stories were supposed to be my
heritage. As I grew up I’ve started to question photography’s function as
my memory, as my family heritage. My photographic practice chains together
straight and still life photography, found footage from my family history
and imagery from family albums. Using photography I've conducted an
examination of my history. Due to the migration of my family from England
to Israel that history discontinued, and therefore I find it hard do
consider it as mine. In order to regain my history I’ve appropriated
images, along with ones that I have made myself, and edited them into a
book titled “cache memory”. The statement that represents the book is the
definition of its title – cache memory. The decision to name the book and
present it through this definition is handed down as recognition of what is
hidden in photographs, coded and read through context; that photographs can
unfold memories but not necessarily the same ones that were originally
embedded in them. I’m researching a history that I don’t see as actually
mine; Family memories that I am not part of. The images become objects that
I use in order to create a new history and memory of my own; people and
places as I would like to remember and understand them. I started not only
looking for my identity in the old photos but also reflect my feelings from
these photos on to the world around me. I look for Moments and objects were
there is a tension that is created by their incomplete aesthetic.
Photography allows me to look at the little and unimportant objects around
me and make them a part of my history just by giving them attention. By
looking at them I capture them to remember, not letting them go away, yet
not trying to save them. Watching their last seconds before I leave and the
moment becomes irrelevant, capturing their last breath. With my camera I
grant them with eternity and in that I grant myself a memory.
My family roots back to England, but I was born in Israel. I was a child on
a fence; a daughter to a migrating family. The house within culturally
stayed European but outside was the Israeli controversial culture. I always
felt a misfit with my partial incomplete identity; torn apart between
parents who have never blended in to the Middle Eastern culture I felt only
half belonged too. Over the years I have heard of my parent’s memories and
stories. I remember hearing of snow, youth and happiness. Stories of
happier days. The stories held on to the memories of time and culture that
I wasn’t a part of, and portraits of family members that always remained
anonymous to me and their faces where no more distinct than any other
person in [read more...]
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