Photographs taken of apartments I’ve lived in are “updated” with acrylic paint in a manner similar to “whiting-out” a document, “removing” the persons and belongings that are no longer present after I vacated. Being fully aware of the textural differences between the photographic space and the painted surface, and allowing the audience to detect the alteration and cover-up effort, I am communicating how I often feel when taking a last look at the now-foreign space I once occupied. No matter how well I have restored the apartment/room to its original condition, the memory of my occupation lingers.
In addition, imagery created by acrylic paint and photographic ink is generally considered permanent and irreversible. Yet, without truly knowing how these two mediums, when combined, will deteriorate with time, their color contrast will likely increase gradually, perhaps at different rates. Eventually only the imagery of the long removed-belongings preserved under paint will remain, acting as my acknowledgement of the fact that the only controllable aspect of permanence lies in what has been lost.