The Power of Memory
I remember when I was counseling others, one of the things that came up was the power of memory. Whatever happens to us, our body doesn’t forget. The joys, the sorrows—they’re all tucked away only to emerge at the most surprising times. To recall what once was can help us make sense of our lives.
My Baba, Lukia Mazurec
Memory marks the writing of my baba’s story, given to me through the lips of my mother. She was the storyteller in the family, repeating what her mother had remembered, what her family had endured in Russia during the first world war and afterwards under Polish occupation. As I write my family’s saga, I hear their voices, or at least my memory of them. And though I wasn’t there, the power of memory, my grandmother’s and mother’s, affects me and I end up crying or laughing at my computer. I’m also left with a greater understanding of my family’s personal sacrifices, ones that have served to enhance my life.
So it was with great interest, that I went to the Vancouver Art Gallery to hear a curator speak of how Martin Honert, a German artist, uses memory in his sculptures. The curator mentioned that Honert is the product not only of his family but of his country. His parents were the ones who questioned the generation before on what had happened during the dark days of Germany, when the National Socialist Party had committed many crimes against humanity, chiefly, the Holocaust. His parents were the ones who wondered about the silence, the denials, and their countrymen’s attempts to reframe what had happened.
But Honert is one generation
Sculpture by Martin Honert
removed from his parents and his art, though it doesn’t speak directly to those questions, conveys a settling or a return to childhood wonders. Perhaps he speaks for his generation, a need to move on, to distance oneself from what was. Or perhaps it’s me, the viewer, that is putting this kind of meaning into his work.
Of his pieces, I was particularly struck by the young boy sitting at a table. It was executed realistically and colored in muted shades of maroon and grey and beige. He shaded the boy’s face, one side dark, and one side light. For me, it represented the light and dark of the country, and perhaps of all our souls.
Maus Book cover, as shown on Wikipedia.org
Another artist, whose work I recently saw at the Vancouver Art Gallery, was Art Spiegelman. He worked with his father’s memories of what he’d experienced as a Holocaust survivor. Art Spiegelman used his comic genius in his graphic novel, Maus, to document his father’s struggles and agony during that horrific time. This novel won him a Pulitzer prize. It also connected him to his father, a man he had not understood until he’d listened and digested his father’s painful memories.
I’m almost finished writing my grandmother’s story, but I know it won’t be the end of my family’s memories. I hope to pass them on through this memoir, to enlighten generations to come, to help them remember what once was.
For another take on memory, check out Marylin Warner’s blog. As a tribute to her mother, who’s lost much of her memory through dementia, Marylin posts stories from the past and comments on how this loss has affected her mother and those around her.
How do you use memory in your work? Do you feel it’s power? Does it seep in when you least expect it? I’d love to hear your comments.
Your post was perfectly timed. Just a few days ago a few of my friends got together over lunch and we started talking about games we used to play as children. Marbles, Jacks, Dodge Ball, etc. One of the girls remembered dropping a rubber ball into the toe of her mother’s old nylons and swinging it against the wall. It wasn’t until she said it that I remembered doing the exact same thing (though perhaps with pantyhose). It was a lovely memory that made me smile and I spent the rest of that day wrapped in memories of roller skates and elastic band jumpsies.
That’s sweet. It’s amazing what we store and how some memory can take us right back.
Memory, body memory, sensory memory, is powerful. Use memory all the time.
Julia, yes, where does one come in and the other leave off, or is it by nature, a powerful combo?
Powerful post, Diana. The picture of your grandmother–your Baba–says so much, and then your mother’s storytelling, and yours, too, will add color and depth to the picture.
The things we remember on our own, and as we share memories with friends and they add theirs, are the reconstructed memories that add color and depth to our lives. Thank you.
Thanks for the kind comments. Your blog inspires me. What a tribute to your mother! Where would we be without them?
It’s funny how the memory works or should I say the brain. There are times when I will walk into a room and then suddenly not remember what I was looking for. It catches me off guard whilst I stand there re-tracing my steps trying to get that previous thought back again. Maybe age is catching up on me 🙁
Back in the day, memory was so important because not everyone could read or write and we didn’t have all the technology we had now. So, the best way to pass things down from one generation to another was via story-telling.
There have been times when I hear a certain noise or I smell something and it immediately brings back a memory of where I was or what I was doing from years ago. That’s always a strange experience because it happens unexpectedly most of the time.
Like you, those triggers of smell or some music will bring back some experience from the past into sharp focus. You wonder where in our mental hard drive all this is stored and how it is accessed. Incredible.