memories linger in the place they were created.
'Memories, if strong enough stay in the place they were created. They just need a little maintenance.'
I wanted to create a film that could be both a poetic narrative piece as well as conceptual art. I filmed in my Grandparents home, just after they passed away and it was left exactly the way I remember it as a little boy.
Cathleen, my grandmother, loved this house. She loved her garden. She loved the flowers and the trees. She loved the grass and the number 62 on the mail box, the dripping taps and weeds that grew in the cement path. She loved to keep everything, even if something were broken it was never thrown away. Maybe it could be useful, she would tell me.
She loved Adam, my grandfather. He loved his shed. Full of tools and pieces of metal and wood. I was always told he could make or fix anything. ‘He even makes the nuts and bolts to hold it together’ my Dad would say.
He played the trumpet. He was a Mason. I asked him to show me the secret handshake, but he never did.
They had a pet kangaroo named Joey and a cat named Smokey.
That clothesline dried the clothes of 5 children.
When they passed away the house was going to be sold. The family started to clean it up, go through everything they kept, everything they left behind. I could feel the memories. Like they were trapped inside and attached to all the little things in there.
These memories have a place. They stay where they were created, as long as there is someone to maintain them.