Thursday, 1 June 2017

Memories of a Home - Arif Furqan

I am not quite sure where my home is, I am not even sure about where the heart is. For me, home is always in present. As a metaphor of survival (Bhaba, 1997), home is not just in present, it is a continuity; the past, present, and endless.
This project is an effort of visual preservation about a house. I attempt to recall its every details as an effort of surviving existence, surviving the locus where those memories are kept and survived, surviving its past, present, and endless changes.
This project itself is also a metaphor of survival.

When I came back to this particular house, it is impossible not to notice the changes. The house and its current residents have made its own method of survival; the TV got bigger, the furniture got more numbers, it got more crowds, more members, there are more things blocked the stairs, the upstairs looked more abandoned, and dust grows on every corner. Yet, there are also several things that remain the same, mostly on the upper areas.
The wall on the upstairs has different paint since it is quite impossible to reach the higher wall. It used to be same color, but since there are some difficult areas to reach and to put renewal paint on it, also considering the leak that (may) damage wall, we silently decide not to renew the paint on the upper areas. The paint that never touched the upstairs make me realize that the house made its own effort to survive. Those unchanged parts keep some historical and memorial artifact of past condition of the house. Well, those parts sometimes help me noticing the changes happened in my absences.
In a distance, it often comes to my mind that even the heart still wanders, memories are buried and found somewhere in the house.

Arif Furqan, 2016.