The Un/Natural State of Things

 

 

My sisters and I used the same book for our “Christian Living” classes.

My sister’s accounting book. She studied Accountancy in Miriam College in Manila. She now resides in L.A., California and is a proud mother of Marco Szpek. I threw this book away before leaving for Canada. —

My aunt’s biology book from the 1980s. She now works as a nurse in California.

A page from my sister Louella’s science book from grade school. She is now a citizen of New Zealand.

The name I can no longer relate to. Me practicing longhand writing at age 7.

Selecting words and choosing the wrong one. I was supposed to write “green grass”.

The cover of my aunt’s entomolgy book.

My aunt’s book on the laws of taxation. She now works in LA as an adjudication officer.

A page from my parents’ wedding album. Project: To photograph remaining images, and to gather recollections (oral histories) about the wedding. May 2011.

Artist statement:

Our family home in the province rings with silence – piled up in several nooks are stacks of boxes sent from overseas as gifts to the few who have been left behind; toys once owned by my cousins are left unattended, broken; the once lively factory for weaving baskets, which for us kids was a playground during our summer holidays, has become musty, and is now the subject of ghost stories.

It seemed inevitable. Like the rest of my family members, I had to leave, too. Like them, I had to sift through my belongings and decide which objects to take and which to leave. Indeed, packing can be a torture, for you can only take with you a fraction of the memories you would like to have handy. It was even more heartbreaking this (third) time, for I took on the task to weed out those objects, damaged by nature and time, ignored and forgotten all these years by others who had left before me.

The Un/Natural State of Things is a series of photographs of decomposing books, which were once owned by my family members. I focus my lens/attention on old, neglected possessions – objects that provide glimpses of my family’s history. Now bug-infested and severely damaged by frequent flooding, these books are among our souvenirs from a long time ago, from before we all got caught in this complex world of international migration.

Exhibited at: Du Mois Gallery, New Orleans, from November 11-December 3, 2010

http://ethnographicterminalia.org/

 

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