As a child, if something bothered me I would draw it on a piece of paper and then erase it or tear it up. I didn’t need to show anyone, I just needed to get it out. This became my rumination.

I hoped that if I slept and woke up, all would be reset to normal. I implored my mind a long time ago, but bad memories stayed. Sometimes they would recede, but they always returned, like waves that come and go. It is difficult to forget things when I try hard. Eventually I realized that I needed to absorb them and live with them somehow.

I have been photographing chalkboards recently. It is enthralling - this erasable object that has had many people’s thoughts and ideas layered upon it. I, too, write what comes to my mind on chalkboards and then erase them, following the process of my childhood ruminations. Sometimes, when you come across a chalkboard, you can make out some words or letters which spark your imagination. This has a parallel to how people’s personal memories affect the way they look at landscape photos.

Last winter, I traveled to the place where my father grew up. I had many chances to photograph there, however I wasn’t ready for a long time as the area carried many poignant memories. This time, gazing at the familiar view that is always in my memory, I found I was ready for it. That scenery that had remained unchanged all this time allowed me to realize the sad and sweet memories I associated with it are things of the past. By photographing these sceneries and seeing them as objects, I realized that it had become another rumination for me.

Chalkboards and landscapes are related to each other though it may not be explicit. The rumination process behind them both is what connects these images; the idea of how things carry history with them, and how our perceptions are affected. These images are the records of this process.

*image (left)
courtesy of the artist