Memories of my grandmother, part 2

When we emptied grandmother’s house 3 years ago, I saved some of her everyday-things. Keys, shoes, her cane, the hat that was hanging by the door. This summer I’ve made casts of some of them for the exhibition “In the periphery”, in Koster’s Sculpture Park at Sydkoster, an island on the west coast of Sweden.

Here is part of the process of the keys.

IMG_6285Some of her keys, nobody knows what they once opened.

Dementia can be like opening doors with the wrong keys. Everything gets mixed up, all the places you’ve been and all the people you’ve met behind every door, or behind no door anymore.

IMG_6292First test: concrete.

IMG_6299Result: a fossilised feeling, time has stopped.

IMG_6320Second test: molds for wax casting.

IMG_6335Result: ghost key, fragile and blank like her fading memories.

IMG_6344Ghost keys stuck in concrete.

IMG_6384Saved in jars the keys loose their function even more.

 

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2 thoughts on “Memories of my grandmother, part 2”

  1. I absolutely love this post. The “ghost keys” are fantastic, and a perfect analogy for both remembering a person now lost, and what battling with dementia must surely be like… A door you used to be able to open in the blink of an eye is now locked forever, with snatches of memory occasionally bleeding through the keyhole like chinks of light or muffled music.
    Brilliant as always, my friend.

    Liked by 1 person

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