Interestingly, these experiences also bring some memories, often forgotten and completely unexpected, back into my consciousness. It's like my mind, in trying to process the new information, forges back on dusty paths. The retraveling clears the overgrowth. The memory becomes sharp and forefront.
"I had forgotten that," I'll often say.
I remember an assignment for one of my painting classes. We were to paint a multipaneled work about a memory. I chose a tryptich, two panels in portrait format anchored by a long panel (shown below) running the length of the other two.
Bottom panel of Fall 1996 (2000). Oil on canvas, 30" x 15". |
I have since separated the three panels of the tryptich. One panel hangs in our guest bedroom. Another got trashed during a move. The panel shown above is with a friend. I'm pretty sure he sees the painting differently from how I see it.
And that's the point of memory, right? It's personal and flawed, an imperfect truth.