Photo, c.1991
Shirt, c.2008
I don't remember what I wear everyday, but I remember certain things that I've worn. I think the idea of clothing as a medium for memory is something really beautiful and really confusing. If you asked me what I wore last Tuesday, I couldn't in a million years answer that. But if you pull a shirt from my closet, and ask me to tell you something that happened while I was wearing that shirt, I could probably come up with at least one memory. More commonly, if you pulled a photo from my family photo album, I can almost definitely tell you when and where that was taken, and any relevant circumstances to the time. This shirt is one that I still wear because I really like it, but I also have a lot of uncomfortable memories tied to it. The dichotomy between this and my baby picture, I think, is something that only really comes into consciousness when they're place in adjacency.
Also, I find this pairing striking in reference to the importance our outward presentation has on the way we're received. The baby picture is one of those classic infant shots; in a photo studio, sitting on a blanket, ridiculous but really funny wallpaper with clowns and rubber ducks and whatnot. This is the way I'm perceived as a child. This is the way my parents wanted me perceived. The shirt here has bleach stains on it, is often wrinkled, and isn't the most refined of materials. How do these compare as tools for memory and as platforms for our social presentation?
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