"Houses of grandmothers are always very organized, most resemble each other. Every ornament, every foil, being in perfect harmony, are in dialogue with one another. As if, if one goes missing, the house becomes lacking, breaking the flow. Grandmother houses are complete as such. Yet, within this wholeness, stands the presence of ragged curtains, a vase mended with tape, ripped wallpapers, broken wood carving of a chair, cracked but preserved plates. Remnants From My Grandmother’s House tells on this aching within.
The departed leaves with an empty void and melancholy behind. The weight of this situation had already downed in all around the house, the house already being aware of what is coming next. As a property reflecting its owner, the house resembles its inhabitant and the inhabitant its dwelling; the house is broken. The fate of a person that lives in a broken house is certain; she or he will depart. Time becomes frozen, house remains muted.
The consolation of objects enters our lives as such. The search, the commemoration, through objects is a poetic approach. While the memories try to stay vivid within this poetry through objects, we discover shadows that were hidden to us. The slightest movement and the signs of life in the shadows remind us that nothing actually is lost and no one has departed. This quiet evocation makes us feel at home. It wraps the aches, romanticizes the sadness and fills the void. The ones left behind, sooner or later realize that they exist as much as they can see in the shadows.
This exhibition that I seek refuge to the sadness and ache inside me, is an attempt to comprehend and fill a void through the objects. Remnants From My Grandmother’s House seeks to see the shadows." - E.S