Polaroids
2026 - ongoing
My work often centers on memory and personal history. Watching both my parents and my sister navigate memory loss, including Alzheimer’s, has made me examine the significance of memory more closely—how deeply it’s tied to our sense of self and how easily it can slip away.
This series reflects on the impermanence of memory—how it shifts, distorts, and fades over time. Childhood fears, family stories, heartbreak, milestones, rituals, traditions, and failures—the good, the bad, all of it becomes part of the narratives we carry through our lives.
Polaroids, to me, evoke nostalgia and core memories. I remember my grandfather in the 1960s with a Polaroid camera slung around his neck, taking pictures of my sisters, brother, and me. Polaroids reflect a specific time, a particular way of seeing. Like memory itself, Polaroids are never exact. Cropped to a square, tones shift, contrast deepens, and what emerges feels true, but not entirely faithful. What remains is a version—softened, altered, and, over time, at risk of fading altogether.
