"Some of us are so obsessed with the past that we die of it."
Family snapshots and other personal photographs tend to derive meaning from one's associated memories. Likewise, photographs act as evidence used to prove, or back-up something remembered. There is something compelling about this symbiotic relationship because it seems that each is valued for the same thing it fails at. Photography and memory are ineffective, yet seductive, methods of reaching towards loss. I am guilty of such unsuccessful attempts. I tell myself it is the elegant impossibility which I'm truly attracted to; however, I find myself constantly trying to cling.