I Forbid You to Forget Me

© Daniela Spector - Image from the I Forbid You to Forget Me photography project © Daniela Spector - Image from the I Forbid You to Forget Me photography project © Daniela Spector - Image from the I Forbid You to Forget Me photography project View all images ↓
View all images ↓

I Forbid You to Forget Me is a series of family archival photos appropriated into collage work to focus on the loss of my mother, Maggie.

An ongoing series born from the death of my mother in 2019. While sifting through her belongings, I found a photograph of her that I had never seen before. Beneath her portrait, she had written, “Te prohibo que me olvides,” which translates to “I forbid you to forget me.”

While sorting through the things my mother left behind, I found a photo I had never seen before. A small portrait of my mom framed within a heart. Underneath the portrait, in my mother’s handwriting, was the phrase: "Te prohibo que me olvides." It translates to: "I forbid you to forget me." That discovery became a decree guiding the series.

The project investigates two contradictory urges: the archival urge to reflect upon the past and the conceptualist urge to bend the process of reflection toward the practice of contemplating. Almost all of the materials used within the series are sourced from my family archive and implemented in a variety of processes: embroidering my mother’s words onto photographs, pairing portraits of my mother with items she left behind, transferring images onto fabric, and freezing images in ice - creating tangible pieces of artwork that mirror the physicality of grief.

© Daniela Spector - Image from the I Forbid You to Forget Me photography project
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Two portraits of my mother, layered on top of her diary. The portrait on the left was the impetus for I Forbid You to Forget Me. Discovered months after my mother’s death, the inscription underneath the portrait reads: Te prohibo que me olvides.

© Daniela Spector - Image from the I Forbid You to Forget Me photography project
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A photograph I took of my family as a child, with the phrase "Sana Sana Colita de Rana" hand-embroidered across the image. The mark of my hand pulls the image away from its emphatic reference, loosening its ties to time and place.

© Daniela Spector - Image from the I Forbid You to Forget Me photography project
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An image and fabric from my family archive, intertwined within one frame. The fabric frames and partially conceals the image. Pulled over the subject, that is no longer here.

© Daniela Spector - An identification photo of my mother with fabric she left behind layered on top, concealing her expression.
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An identification photo of my mother with fabric she left behind layered on top, concealing her expression.

© Daniela Spector - An image of my mother resting on the table has been transferred onto the fabric she left behind.
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An image of my mother resting on the table has been transferred onto the fabric she left behind.

© Daniela Spector - Image from the I Forbid You to Forget Me photography project
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A photograph I took of my family as a child, my mother is the only face that is discernible. The phrase "Sana Sana Colita de Rana" is hand-embroidered across the image, weaving past and present together.

© Daniela Spector - My mother's fans.
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My mother's fans.

© Daniela Spector - An identification photo of my mother, with her gaze fixed on the camera, lapel slightly askew, layered with dried flowers.
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An identification photo of my mother, with her gaze fixed on the camera, lapel slightly askew, layered with dried flowers.

© Daniela Spector - A photo from my family archive of my mother, frozen in ice.
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A photo from my family archive of my mother, frozen in ice.

© Daniela Spector - Image from the I Forbid You to Forget Me photography project
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A photograph of my childhood home in Miami with the phrase "Sana Sana Colita de Rana" hand-embroidered across the image. Text disrupting the image, the memory, like a relief map.

© Daniela Spector - A portrait of my mother folded into itself.
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A portrait of my mother folded into itself.

© Daniela Spector - Image from the I Forbid You to Forget Me photography project
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A photo of my mother, father, and me in the summer of 1993, framed with fabric my mother left behind. The fabric is pulled over the image, partially obscuring the family dynamic, signifying the loss of my mother.

© Daniela Spector - A photo of my mother and me, tucked into my mother's diary.
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A photo of my mother and me, tucked into my mother's diary.

© Daniela Spector - Image from the I Forbid You to Forget Me photography project
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“Sana, sana, colita de rana. Si no sanas hoy, sanarás mañana.” is hand-embroidered in red thread onto a photo of myself in the backseat of my parents' car. The embroidered phrase translates to “Heal, heal, little tail of the frog. If you don't heal today, you'll heal tomorrow." It’s a popular Spanish saying my mother would use to comfort me when I was hurt.

I Forbid You to Forget Me by Daniela Spector

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