Exploring the associations of objects and memory, I made rubbings on translucent fabric of items salvaged from my burned family home. Creating a mix of ash from the burned home and wax, I followed the contours, edges and details of broken bits of dishware, silverware, books, door handles, and other items. Making a rubbing is a form of recording, repetition, and re-creation, all processes  inherent in remembering.

These shadowy rubbings speak of the re-creation and fragmentation of remembering, and the significance of objects as containers of memory. Walking along this insubstantial wall of delicate fabrics, slight traceries and smudgy depictions of fragmented objects seem to hover in space, layered over each other. The views through the gauzy fabric make deeper layers of rubbings harder to decipher. Blurry outlines of the room beyond mirror our view of the present as informed by being seen through the film of the past. This wall of diaphanous fabric fragments and floating images transports us to a place where architecture is defined purely by what it once contained. A reminder of a place that once encompassed the lives that these objects were a part of.  The objects also act as magnifiers of associations; we not only see a spoon or a broken piece of a plate, these bring up references to the table they once sat on or the family dinners they were a part of.