Memories and Piety
Hushed voices chant the words of prophets uttered millenia ago. Flickering candles throw dancing shadows on walls ordained with the likenesses of saints. Bookshelves creak and groan under the weight of ancient texts. Richly coloured carpet casts a softer, muted version of its hue onto the walls and ceiling above.
Where is this place? Why does it feel familiar? Where is everyone?
Distinct is the weight of memory that clings to the air, like dust suspended in a ray of light. The lingering aura of human activity that is only implied but not immediately evident permeates this space. There are people around, but not here.
This place is occupied by memory. Entire rooms and halls dedicated to the devotion of a figure of the past, or of ancient scripture. But whose memories occupy this space? Are they ours? Or someone else’s? Or are they the collective memories of those before us, homogenized and dispersed like a thin plastic veneer carefully applied over all surfaces?
Where is this place? Why does it feel familiar? Where is everyone?
Distinct is the weight of memory that clings to the air, like dust suspended in a ray of light. The lingering aura of human activity that is only implied but not immediately evident permeates this space. There are people around, but not here.
This place is occupied by memory. Entire rooms and halls dedicated to the devotion of a figure of the past, or of ancient scripture. But whose memories occupy this space? Are they ours? Or someone else’s? Or are they the collective memories of those before us, homogenized and dispersed like a thin plastic veneer carefully applied over all surfaces?
exhibition view, artch 2024, documentation by William Sabourin