Ochi Reyes
—
Memory is Like Sand in my Hands
(2013-ongoing)
This project is about identity, both personal and collective. It is a reflection on the way identity fluctuates in the passage between self and other(s). We are not only what we think we are, but also what others project, from their imagination, on to us. The line that separates self from other is thin. Identity is not rigid or static, but builds upon experience, from our participation in the collective, and our interrelation with others.
People imagine Varda when they see me. They imagine those images they’ve seen that are part of feminist film culture. They project those images on to me, and I collect those projections and use them to investigate what it is we think we are. When I make these re-enactments I test the limits of the line that separates self and other. From that other that isn’t me but that people see. Someone else then takes the photograph, projecting from her point of view, another vision of the same scene. Everything is subjective, we are all one, everything is constructed, everything is connected.
(2013-ongoing)
This project is about identity, both personal and collective. It is a reflection on the way identity fluctuates in the passage between self and other(s). We are not only what we think we are, but also what others project, from their imagination, on to us. The line that separates self from other is thin. Identity is not rigid or static, but builds upon experience, from our participation in the collective, and our interrelation with others.
People imagine Varda when they see me. They imagine those images they’ve seen that are part of feminist film culture. They project those images on to me, and I collect those projections and use them to investigate what it is we think we are. When I make these re-enactments I test the limits of the line that separates self and other. From that other that isn’t me but that people see. Someone else then takes the photograph, projecting from her point of view, another vision of the same scene. Everything is subjective, we are all one, everything is constructed, everything is connected.
