Upload
adam-scher
View
225
Download
0
Embed Size (px)
Citation preview
8/8/2019 Scher Impetus
1/3
Adam Scher
December 6, 2010Writing and Research
Motivation and Impetus
Chris Prentice
My memories are sacred. My memories are amorphous. My memories are
mysterious. My memories are unique to me and me alone.
It was the summer of 1996, and I sat in the television room of my mothers
new house in upstate New York. Her and my stepfather had recently moved across
the country, and this was my first visit to their new home. The heat of the summer
was different than what I was used to in California, thick humidity paired with a
constant stickiness. Afternoon sunlight filled the room, as my mother and I sat
watching the Summer Olympics. Although I normally would have protested the
programming, I sat quietly and watched. It was her company that I was invested in,
not the gymnastics.
She rested in her dark leather recliner chair, as I sat on the couch. Between
us, was a small square coffee table that had traveled with her from Los Angeles to
New York. I remember how strange it was to see the piece of furniture out of its
original context. On top of it, a bowl of peanut M&Ms. All of the green ones skillfully
removed from the bowl, ending up in my mouth. There was little conversation
between us that afternoon, just the sound of the television and the comfort of each
others presence.
That is my last memory of my mother.
8/8/2019 Scher Impetus
2/3
I replay this scene over and over in my head, trying to grasp on to any other
detail that my mind can afford to give up. What was it that happened right before
this moment, or right after? I just cant remember. And I am left distressed,
accepting the loss of those vacant moments. Perhaps the acceptance that precious
memories of my childhood have faded over time has driven my current research
and design practice.
I am afraid that my memories will be lost over time if I do not carefully file
and store them away. I believe their organization must be meticulous. But memories
are not tangible and cannot be handled like the artifacts I associate with them. In
fact, they operate on their own terms, leaving me powerless to their comings and
goings. At times I struggle to remember the sound of my mothers voice, but can
recall the act of eating green M&Ms the last day I saw her. These inconsistencies and
unpredictable behaviors appear to be out of my control, and perhaps is what
fascinates me about them.
As Ive gotten older Ive begun to compensate for my inability to preserve
these memories through documenting and saving the present moment. The brief act
of snapping a photograph or saving a file reassures me that the moment will not be
lost in my mind, and will be available for reflection at any point. How often do I go
back and filter through these growing bins of digital memories? Hardly ever. How
often do I think about that single afternoon in the summer of 1996? Almost daily.
What I feel it comes down to is significance. We dont remember static
moments of our lives. The memories build upon one another to create magical
8/8/2019 Scher Impetus
3/3
scenes that we are able to recreate in our minds. A photograph might ignite such a
stream of thoughts, but the actual object is incapable of transcending time and
space. Without the fluidity and unpredictability of our minds behavior, we might
never trigger lost memories. However it is a gamble, because there is always the
chance that those thoughts could be gone forever.