
The Memory of That Time– At the Principle Gallery, Alexandria, VA
There was a long hard time when I kept far from me the remembrance of what I had thrown away when I was quite ignorant of its worth.
― Great Expectations
Do we know what we should remember? Do we remember what we should know?
Do we have the ability to recognize the importance of any moment in our lives at the time it occurs? Of course, there are the huge moments that affect the whole of a nation such as the 9/11 attacks which we all remember, most in graphic details from our reactions to the moments of that day.
We certainly immediately knew that the memory of that day would last.
But what about those days and events that affect only ourselves and perhaps a small group of other folks? Do we know in any of those moments that we would or should carry that memory forward?
Sometimes those small moments bring on large consequences for those involved. But do we recognize what part these small, seemingly insignificant moments played in bringing them about?
I don’t know the answer. Perhaps it differs for each of us and maybe it doesn’t even matter in the larger scheme of things.
I ask these questions because I am often baffled by my life and the path it took. There is some gnawing inner need to understand the pattern it followed, to uncover those small moments of importance hidden in the mists of the past.
For the most part, it’s a fool’s errand. But occasionally a forgotten moment from the past will push forward and I will hold it up and examine it as though it were a newly found specimen, letting the light shine on it as I examine it from different perspectives.
Sometimes, these found memories are oddly gratifying, as though I have finally found a missing piece that fits in the billion piece jigsaw puzzle that is a life. Of course, there are still millions of other missing pieces– lost memories of other small but important moments– in that puzzle.
Been writing this and my coffee got cold. Wonder if that should be remembered?
Hmm…
I really like this painting: the sense of spaciousness, the implied effort of providing a clearing where human roots can be put down.
And I like how you see it.