Forget-me-nots bloom in January

Personal project exploring memory, identity and loss through photography. As my mother’s dementia progresses, we work with family photos, analyzing and manually destroying them to mirror how the disease erases her memories and sense of self.

"Forget-me-nots bloom in January"

What happens to a person when part of their memories disappears forever?

Who do we become when our sense of self fades away?

These questions have stayed with me since my mother began suffering from dementia. For several years, I have witnessed changes in her behavior and sense of identity. As I accompany her, I reflect on how memory works and how much of what we try to hold on to will ultimately remain.

In this project, I focus on working with archival photographs as "material evidence of what once was." I use photos from our family albums — in the past, my mother would write descriptions on the back, meant to serve as a guide for the future.

Today, I invite her to engage in therapeutic work with these archives. She personally analyzes the photos, writes notes, crosses things out, and marks people and places. I want my mother not just to be the subject of photographs, but to become an active participant and co-creator of the project.

Some of the photos are intentionally destroyed using traditional techniques: cutting, erasing, tearing. Symbolically, this reflects how the disease strips my mother of her memories.

When I take photos, I focus on details — small fragments of reality. I'm particularly drawn to ‘shifts,’ those tiny imperfections I once associated with absent-mindedness but now see as subtle signs of her illness progressing.

I keep trying to capture my mom in a portrait. As her memory fades, she gradually loses her sense of self. I can’t fully capture her. Instead, I focus on fragments of her body, as if pieces of her personality existed separately, impossible to fully bring together.