126 Greenpoint Avenue, Brooklyn, New York
Part of collaborative curatorial project originated by Anat Litwin focusing on themes of nostgalia, domesticity, and origin. Article Projects organized Room #1 with Diane Apostolacus, Marcy Brafman, Robert Grant, and Mark Power.
Rooms 2-6, curated by Anat Litwin, with work by Peter Dudek, Merav Ezer, Anat Litwin, Raffael Lomas, Arik Miranda, Shiri Sandler, Emily Silver, Monika Sosnowski, Joshua Strauss, and Shirley Wegner
DIANE APOSTOLACUS
MARCY BRAFMAN
ROBERT GRANT
I would like to ask this question: what is home? Home is everything that’s familiar to us, the many little things that arrange themselves in the order of our daily experience, which define the state of domestic bliss, that color our first encounters with life in the family abode, and which we remember just as much as the more dramatic events that shape our emotional growth, even though we are apt to take them for granted.
Such encounters are more often than not extremely commonplace, but they reflect the texture of empirical knowledge: that household objects have a given resonance beyond their mere use; that brand names are ornamentations on the unconscious; that places like a bathtub basin or a shiny kitchen countertop are arenas waiting for dramas to unfold; and that the personas of parents are imprinted in the clothes they wore.
All of these experiences lead us to a place that is alternately warm and inviting while also mysterious and foreboding. The same home that we remember to a degree matching nostalgia can also be filled with somberness and menace, the same objects and images can also remind us of the horror a child feels when things are not as they should be; and what we feel as adults when we are forced to put away childish things.
The home becomes a shell of its former memory. We replace old memories with new ones, old dishes and brand names with new ones, and the past fades away like an old photograph.
Here we have art about the home, and though it is new we are older and wiser for seeing in it a semblance of our past lives. We still make use of the same items today, and random memories return to us when we see an older woman in the street, the picture of a lost relative, or we see someone eating a candy bar with a wrapper of a certain color, and we remember what it meant as a child, to feel alive.
Home is a past filled with memories that can only grow into a better future.
Part of collaborative curatorial project originated by Anat Litwin focusing on themes of nostgalia, domesticity, and origin. Article Projects organized Room #1 with Diane Apostolacus, Marcy Brafman, Robert Grant, and Mark Power.
Rooms 2-6, curated by Anat Litwin, with work by Peter Dudek, Merav Ezer, Anat Litwin, Raffael Lomas, Arik Miranda, Shiri Sandler, Emily Silver, Monika Sosnowski, Joshua Strauss, and Shirley Wegner
DIANE APOSTOLACUS
MARCY BRAFMAN
ROBERT GRANT |
| MARK POWER |
Such encounters are more often than not extremely commonplace, but they reflect the texture of empirical knowledge: that household objects have a given resonance beyond their mere use; that brand names are ornamentations on the unconscious; that places like a bathtub basin or a shiny kitchen countertop are arenas waiting for dramas to unfold; and that the personas of parents are imprinted in the clothes they wore.
All of these experiences lead us to a place that is alternately warm and inviting while also mysterious and foreboding. The same home that we remember to a degree matching nostalgia can also be filled with somberness and menace, the same objects and images can also remind us of the horror a child feels when things are not as they should be; and what we feel as adults when we are forced to put away childish things.
The home becomes a shell of its former memory. We replace old memories with new ones, old dishes and brand names with new ones, and the past fades away like an old photograph.
Here we have art about the home, and though it is new we are older and wiser for seeing in it a semblance of our past lives. We still make use of the same items today, and random memories return to us when we see an older woman in the street, the picture of a lost relative, or we see someone eating a candy bar with a wrapper of a certain color, and we remember what it meant as a child, to feel alive.
Home is a past filled with memories that can only grow into a better future.
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