Are we haunted by our memories?

We used to walk out to the island at night. It was easier then, there were always so many of us, walking and laughing and joking around. The darkness, the long walk to and up a hollow hill sealed with sets of giant metal doors, locked, the terror of the unknown stored behind them, a thrilling risk, a beautiful view. On those nights I had always been anxious, afraid of the cliffs, afraid of falling into the churning water and rocks far below. The pitch darkness and isolation always inspired other fears, however, those of supernatural and horror. I feared encountering someone or something else up there, of finding a body or seeing a ghost. I feared becoming separated or straying too far from the group and losing them in the dark. But our friend group was large and always stuck together. That is until everyone drifted apart and moved away after graduation.

I’ve been back many times since—with various other people and sometimes at night—but it has never been the same. That fear instilled in me still lingers in this place, especially without our friend group to chase it away. But far more haunting are the memories. Every aspect of this place triggers a memory, a feeling, an indistinct picture. The puddles, the benches, the wharfs, the doors, the cliffs, the gazebo, the concrete shore, the paths and trees and stairs and chain railings and flowers and rocks, the indents in the ground, the shape of the very land itself. Christina Care writes the feeling like this: 

When we talk about ghosts, we might be referring to a supernatural something, the feature of horror films. . . . But I’ve been thinking about ghosts a lot lately. I’ve been thinking about how we are all haunted, in a way, by the past.

Memories resurface and make themselves known when we least expect it. . . . In seemingly random moments, memories resurface. We can “see” events unfold, again and again. These ghosts are very real. (Care)

The island was not the only place where we hung out—it was one of many, an entire life lived in a small town we all knew like the back of our hands. Returning to any of these places evokes many memories and feelings of times long gone, experiences that shaped me into the person I am today. These memories have become bittersweet, tinged with the loss of the people within them. As The School of life succinctly writes: “We enjoyed those times very much – but the memory of them is mixed up with the knowledge of what happened later.” (The School of Life). It hurts more to have something and lose it than to never have it at all. A University news article says this:

At low points—when college seems too difficult, or the weather takes a turn for the worse, or when days just seem dull—we like to look back at the good old days. These days may be from the recent summertime or they might be from one’s childhood. (The University News)

We are most certainly living through a ‘low point’ in our lives right now, and being stuck back in my hometown without the familiar support system I remember, it has been difficult not to long for and feel nostalgic about those endless childhood summer days, full of friendship and fun. Researchers have discovered that our strongest memories come from things that happen to us between 10 and 30; called the “reminiscence bump” so it stands to reason that they would be the most painful to remember after losing everyone that was a part of those core memories (McAndrew). 

It would be a lie to say that my project wasn't influenced by the many times I have listened to the musical ‘Ghost Quartet’ over the past year and a half. Written by Dave Malloy, this musical deals largely with themes and motifs pertaining to ghosts, growing up, loss of childhood, and memory. It even has a significant plot centered around photography and “a photo of a ghost” so I think it’s quite fitting for this project. Consider these lyrics from Ghost Quartet’s opening song, ‘I Don’t Know’:

I don't know if this is me at all

Or just some ghost of me

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Or someone that I used to be

Or someone that I will be

Or someone that I am right now (Malloy)

I believe that this segment in particular sparked my concept. The question of whether or not the people I remember even exist anymore and by extension if the person I was back then has also become a ghost to me. And theses verses from ‘Tango Dancer’:

I have a lot of memories

And I have a lot of sadness

But the two don’t line up

The two don’t line up

 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

And I’m haunted by that memory

Of who I used to be

So gleeful

So blank

So ready (Malloy)

The aforementioned University News article continues to say:

By identifying meaningful moments in our lives, we draw meaning to our lives in general. . . . nostalgia provides context to our lives. When misfortune befalls us or we find ourselves alone, we remember times that were good, much like the saying that a bad day does not mean a bad life. (The University News)

Giving hope and a purpose to the bittersweet pain these memories bring. I like to think I'm honouring these past versions of myself, my friends, and our memories, through this photo series—giving a purpose to the pain. Photography is great at capturing what is physically in a space, but for many people, the experience of a space is heavily influenced by what they remember about it. “Photography grasps what is given as a spatial (or temporal) continuum; memory images retain what is given only in so far as it has significance.” This puts photography and memory at odds with one another—neither truly capturing the true image of something (Kracauer). I seek to unite the two: photography and memory. I have taken portraits of myself in places in my hometown that hold particular significance to me and I have drawn over them with depictions of memories the space evokes. In this way I can give them a proper burial, laying these ghosts to rest. This sentiment is echoed in Ghost Quartet in this stanza from the song, ‘Prayer’:

I will try to forgive myself

For living in the dark

For my loss of wonder

For forgetting how to play (Malloy)

And so I will try to forgive myself for the loss of my old friends, for growing up and leaving the past behind. As the end of the song ‘Hero’ goes:

I guess it’s time

To let the dead be dead (Malloy).