The need to remember the past and preserve history is as old as history itself. Art has been inscribed in the production of memories through multiple formats like monuments, memorials and antimonuments, and in works that aim to build, preserve, materialize, or even edit memory.
History and memory hold many affinities, and some differences. French historian, Pierre Nora, affirms that these two concepts, rather than being synonymous, are opposites. Memory is in constant transformation, it is forgotten and remembered according to the dialectic of the moment. On the other hand, history is a reconstruction of what is no longer there, and is therefore always incomplete. Memory is a phenomenon of the present, history a representation of the past. Memory is absolute, while history is relative. 1
In line with Pierre Nora’s claim: “We speak so much about memory, because there is so little of it left,” 2 artists such as Christian Boltanski, Ilán Lieberman, and Oscar Muñoz have explored ways to remember those who are no longer here, preserving what seems impermanent. French artist Christian Boltanski reflected on themes such as death, collective trauma, and loss of identity throughout his career; seeking to rescue memory through a variety of media. Boltanski collected photographs, objects, and even heartbeats, with the intention of remembering ordinary people and making them transcend in memorials that allude to collective memory. Among Boltanski’s emblematic work is the Monument series, which consist of installations of black and white portraits of children, stacked in a pyramidal shape with light bulbs that are connected to each other, recalling a public and collective mourning that commemorates specific people.
Both Boltanski and Mexican artist Ilán Lieberman collected photographic archives of children for their artistic production. Both practices employ photography to recall the memory of what has vanished from view, photography as the capture of an instant in time. Lieberman drew exact copies of newspaper images of missing children in pencil and with the help of a microscope–replicating the dots of the printing. Lieberman recreated over a period of three years, one hundred photographs from a local Mexico City newspaper. Primeros 25 Dibujos de la serie “Niño Perdido” [First 25 Drawings of the Lost Child series] acts as a collection of obituaries, or missing posters. Accompanying the drawings is a caption underneath that lists some of the characteristics of each missing person; such as name, age, height, particular characteristics, and date of disappearance.
Argentine artist Amalia Pica proposes the construction of new memories through the action To Everyone that Waves. Made in 2005-2006, the work speaks of displacement and nostalgia. Composed of a 16mm black and white video, and a pile of white handkerchiefs on a pedestal, the video shows an old ship setting out from the port of Amsterdam, the same place that said goodbye to thousands of people who emigrated to the United States centuries ago. Unannounced, the artist handed out white handkerchiefs to the people boarding the ship, as well as to those who remained on the dock. The happening was intended as a speculative study about whether peoples would wave to the ship with the “typical” white handkerchief salute and as a study of the documentation and recording of ephemeral art. The record of this happening, in conjunction with the confirmed speculation of the artist, speaks of the construction of new memories, and the subjective interpretation of history.
This selection includes works related to the act of remembering. Through different means, the included artists seek to build memories around situations or losses. Each of the artists gives a new interpretation to moments, in some cases through the construction of memorials, monuments, or anti-monuments, and in most of them through reinterpretations that show that memory is a construction built in the present. It is through the experience of each of the pieces that these monuments become memorials and that the viewer can create his or her own memories, questioning the idea of a hegemonic history.