I don’t know what to say about my memories except that they are mine and they are flawed by time and nostalgia and my ever evolving perspective on life and such. Tarkovsky did a movie called The Mirror it was about his memories and his feelings for people important to him. The film was odd non-linear and difficult almost tedious in its pacing. However I do think it was a success for what it attempted to do by relating the subjective experience of how his memories were appreciated by him and then contriving some sort of narrative around those aloof memories and emotional fragments.
I hate to talk about Art. I find it almost impossible to not slip into pretensions convolutions and esoteric deconstruction. I find those thing that I enjoy are things that at once surprise me but do not feel forced or weird for the sake of themselves. My memories give me feelings and these are something that I can apply to a scene in terms of the cinematography and some of the literal content but I don’t find anything deep within them. That they convey something general to others gives me the sense that they are unremarkable. The combination and intentional collaboration of these feelings, these accumulated experiences intellectually digested and processed combined with others, the fusion of memory fragments and emotional notions seems to be the best way to construct something artistic.
Joseph Campbell was talking to Bill Moyers on this program I watched last night (it was old and sort of strange). He said that it is in the artists that make our new myths and rituals as the culture is continually changing and evolving, as worlds collide I think this makes some sense. Only the living can apply their understanding to create something intelligible I wonder what Aristotle would do with this 2004 AD?