I have a handful of photographs of my sister and I on holiday as children. These photographs are loose and generally tucked into the bookcase, usually just resurfacing when I want to remind my sister of her superb perm and myself of my aircraft-carrying forehead. We have a good laugh and then they are returned to the spaces between books where no one else can see them.
This particular image is among my favourites. Despite our 6 year age gap, our step-mother generously bought us the same outfits so we'd both look cool as fuck. Coupled with the flip-flops and side-ways positioning of my sister's head in order to maintain the oh-so popular extreme side parting, it's of little wonder why there only remains very minimal evidence of this time.
When I developed the photographs from my grandmother’s camera and discovered the images of the unknown garden, it brought about vague memories of my early childhood. I assume they are memories as they are consistent if not accurate, and they flicker in my mind when other senses are invoked such as smell and touch, when I feel I'm in a familiar environment. I suppose it could be considered nostalgia?
Shelley and I, France c.1995
Shelley and I, France c.1995
"For although we are accustomed to separate nature and human perception into two realms, they are in fact, indivisible. Before it can ever be repose for the senses, landscape is the work of the mind. Its scenery is built up as much from strata of memory as from layers of rock." - Simon Schama, Landscape and Memory, 1996, Fontana Press
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