On Memory

Regardless of whether we consciously are aware of it or not, memory permeates every part of our day and every day of our lives: we construct our daily rituals through the engrained memories of our parents’ teachings (or scolding’s).  We get from point A to point B by memory of the rules of traffic, the motion of going through the airport, the different stops on the subway. We talk in the language that we were taught; we communicate this way. We open up our phones in the morning, and look at the weather, and remember which type of clothing to wear in order to best prepare for the weather on that particular day. As artists, we create work through memory- this could be a moment in time (positive or negative) that we recall, it could be a state of being that we remember, and that we want to achieve again, it could be a place that we want to replicate through paint or material, it could be a feeling that we had due to the words that someone said.

Memory dominates our existence, it is the only reason that we, as living beings, are able to achieve consciousness, to obtain order, to grow and to learn, and to become wise, intelligent, and skilled. It must be mentioned as well, memory is what makes each and every person completely individual and unique- as memories are without objectivity, they are comprised solely out of a single person’s, a single brain’s retainment of information from a specific moment in time, a particular place, a secluded moment. The brain remembers not only the sight of a memory or a moment in time, but the smell, the sounds, the physical feeling, the tastes, the emotions felt by the creature in which this organ inhabits. We are all outsiders to each other’s memories. We will never be able to empathize with another being and their own recollection of a specific time – even if we ourselves witnessed the same event. This brings me to an anecdote that relates to a section in Memory: Documents of Contemporary Art – “The Sadness of the Machine”, written in 2001 by Ollivier Dyens.

I find myself often annoyed with the use of smartphones. I know, I am a Millennial, and Millennials are ‘responsible for the complete overtaking of technology on life itself’, and especially in regard to the smartphone and its ‘function’ of ruining face-to-face interactions. Maybe I am an oddball human of this generation, but I really am not a fan of the smartphone; I am constantly annoyed at my friends who can never seem to put their phone down when we are together, those who always have to live stream their lives via Instagram, Snapchat, Facebook, and now the ungodly platform of TikTok, those who can only seem to date or have sexual interactions via dating and hookup platforms such as Tinder, Bumble, Hinge, Grindr, and Chat Roulette, and especially those who must constantly use their smartphone to take pictures and videos of a moment, in order to “remember” and “look back” on this moment, but more importantly, to post this moment on one of their social media platforms, which of course, truly defines the worth and status of a person and their life. Now, of course I am no exception to this – I have taken part in some of these things with my iPhone (luckily, not all).

I will never forget, a few weeks ago, my roommate and I went out on our friend’s boat for the day. I did not take my phone, but I brought my camera (I enjoy taking pictures as part of my artistic practice). It was a lovely day on the boat, we had perfect weather. Around 7:00 pm, the sun slowly started to set, and we were in the perfect position, right off of little Tybee Island, docked right off the shore, in order to view the sun setting over the calm ocean. I have been fortunate enough to see many exquisite sunsets around the world. I can vividly remember eight of them, and I could tell you each detail; where I was, who I was with or not with, the day that I had that lead up to the sunset, how old I was, the weather, the smells of my surroundings, and maybe even the clothes I was wearing (I will not bore you with my memory recollections of these sunsets).

Back to the anecdote. This particular sunset was spectacular- it will a sunset to add to my top eight. The vibrant colors in the sky were constantly changing, from pyrrole red, to florescent orange, to a magenta that could never be replicated in a tube of pigment, to a periwinkle that leaked out of the clouds, that were surrounded by a faded lime green that perfectly balanced on the ocean’s reflection of the sky’s hues, toned-down by its deep gray surface. Fleetwood Mac’s album Rumors played softly on the stereo, making this early April sunset even more pleasurable. However, I found myself more annoyed than at peace. I was sitting on the bow of the boat, taking in this elegant phenomenon, and a friend kept moving around me, and at one point, asking me to move (even though we were on a decently large boat) so that she could get, and I quote, “the perfect Insta picture” of the sunset. I would not have been bothered if she had just taken a few snapshots of this moment, or even a short video. The fact of the matter was that for an hour, the duration of the sun setting, this person never put the phone down, and was repeatedly taking pictures and videos,  editing them to enhance saturation, clarity, vibrancy, exposure, and then doing this all over again. I do not recall this person ever even looking at the sunset through her own eyes, rather than the blue-lit screen of the Phone X.   

I was irritated for a few minutes, and then I just moved and thought to myself as I watched the sunset with my eyes and not my phone lens. I became sad and upset, as this is not the first time by any means, that I have witnessed someone do this. Of course, my friend may have access to these photographs for his entire life and will be able to view them as often as he pleases. However, will these photographs take place or be as powerful as my memory of this moment, where I did not document it? Are certain memories more meaningful, important, special because of lack of documentation, or are documented moments more powerful because a person can look at these photographs again and again?

Ollivier Dyens discusses memory and the destruction of our own memories due to the advanced technology that we constantly surround ourselves with in this technological era. Dyens explains that new technologies adapt to our particular and specific needs, and asks the questions, “what are we becoming as we empty more of our memories into culture and technology? How will we perceive the world when even our most intimate memories become device-dependent?” (p.77). Memories are completely our own, they are locked in our brains, only for us to remember. But when our memories are streamed on social media, through the documentation of these moments that create our memories, are they no longer special and individual to us? Are these publicized memories no longer really memories at all, but just snapshots that we hope get hundreds of “likes” on Instagram to validate how special this memory was and is to us? Dyens further discusses this question by claiming, “machines control our memories, they own the fundamental materials that shape us, and they manage the structures that generate human meaning and perspective. We long for our humanity” (p.79). While the goal of social media platforms and the advanced technology of the smartphone camera aim to bring us all closer to each other, to capture special moments and milestones throughout our lives, are we losing one part of humanity that is crucial to our happiness and well-being – that of the intimacy of our own memories. I suppose intimacy will no longer be truly vital to our existence, if our future children will not be comprised of flesh, blood, and bones, but of wires, glass, and metal. In the words of Marvin Minsky and Hans Moravec, Robots will be, and already are, our memory children.