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MARY'S BOX
2024 My grandmother Mary was born in Yonkers, New York, in 1929. In the United States, my great-grandfather had started an ice-making business, but after a few years, he returned to Italy with the family. Among the reasons for the return was the fact that, after the birth of their second daughter, they began to miss home. Back in Italy aboard the transatlantic ship Rex, the two girls received a strict and traditional upbringing. The only contact with the United States remained only through the photographs sent by relatives and friends who still lived in America. One day, my grandmother showed me a large box filled with family photographs from overseas. These images and Mary's childhood memories represent the only documentation of the existence of her relatives and her life before returning to Italy. However, memories can be altered, just like images. Can we consider these photographs the sole source of truth? My artistic intervention presents a parallel story that highlights the boundaries of photographic language, pushing it to the limits of paradox. Mary's memories turn into images: faithful yet suspended, mysterious, obscured, and sometimes false recollections. "Photography is a truth if it captures what does not change over time. It photographs the truth of the past but not the truth of the present; even though, in the present, memories can become a form of truth." - Richard Avedon |
