Collecting teardrops in an old tin cup
I collect seashells by the seashore, as the old tongue twister says…
I also, in a way, collect memories…
Every once in a while, a memory, a flash from the past, pervades my conscience and brings back things that I though were forgotten. I think is a function of getting old as my brother says he experiences the same thing. Love you Bro!
Some people say that life flashes before our eyes before we die, maybe this is what that is. A preamble of death.
I have long forgotten my religion. I currently not believing in much anymore. I don’t think there is anything after death. I don’t think there is a heaven or hell or that there is an omnipresent being watching over us.
I was listening to the Hidden Brain podcast and they were talking about religion. They made an excellent point there. They said that we can almost trace the birth of religion to a point in time, but that before that, there were almost 12,000 years of humanity, where God didn’t exist. It was created basically as population control. You can listen to the episode “Creating God” here.
So this ideas of heaven and hell were created in a sense to give us hope.
The reality is that after we are gone, just a few people will remember us. And after they are gone, the memory of us will be gone with them.
So, while I am alive, I will be making memories for myself, so that every once in a while they come back to me. My photography and the art are driven by this. As my memory fades, my images serve as the constant reminder.
I was creating this piece and an old memory from the song “Soapbox Opera” by Supertramp came to mind. Is not exactly what the lyrics says, but the title seemed appropriate.