Roots to Seeds

In brocante shop La Cabaret near Quiberville, a beach town in Normandy, I found a box of dia slides. A couple appears in them — sitting on coastal rocks, picking oysters, resting beside sea kale. A memory, uprooted, now in my hands.

My practice begins here — with an inherited memory, and the desire to give it live again. I treat the collection with practices borrowed from the garden; cutting stems, trying to let these root hoping that the seeds will scatter. The slides are fragments of a memoryscape — a spatial-temporal flow of affect.

I move as an anthropologist of the imagined — conducting fieldwork in dreamlands, where the archive breathes, and memory lives in the world of fantasy. These fragments are living organisms: speculative, affective, half-buried. I do not seek to reconstruct what was, but to work with what flickers at the edges — to plant, to tend, to scatter. The work is not preservation. It is propagation.

I explore how memory travels, mutates, and re-settles. What happens when a memory is found, unclaimed? Can it be scattered, planted, or translated into new soil?

I offer stems — offshoots, graftings, new lines of growth. Here, memory moves not as history, but as an ecology.