Claire Marie Snyder

The Family Album

For as long as I can remember, I have been obsessed with dissecting memories. Growing up, one of my favorite things to do was sprawl out on the living room floor and flip through family photo albums, contemplating the many stories they told. I am fascinated by the moments we choose to capture and keep, verses those we subconsciously take in and internalize. Moments both chosen and not, enmeshing together to form our sense of self and what we make of our world. A memory does not exist in a fixed state, nor is it a literal interpretation of a moment past. It is instead a malleable entity in a constant state of flux, shrinking and expanding, informed by our relationships, environments, and experiences. 

This installation explores the complexities of memory and the ways in which they shape our identities, by examining the moments that fundamentally alter who we are. Handmade collages of appropriated imagery and text are woven into a video projection, to emulate how pieces of memories stitch together to form narratives. Mining magazines for photos of objects and places that echo experiences past, like windows gazed through in homes that weren’t mine. The different types of birds that I have always felt kindred with. Streets traveled on road trips, the bodies of water that called to me. The deserts, forests, and mountains I spent so much time in and the hands I can still feel.  

When we recall memories, we are constructing new ones. They are fluid, taking on new forms as our perspectives, relationships, and surroundings change. A single memory can exist in multiples. Memories that were once so clear become obscured. Despite the unreliability of our memories, they serve as the foundation to who we are, how we define ourselves, and interact with our world, and I find myself consistently musing over what that means.