That's all I could remember today.
We don’t always remember great architecture more vividly than poor architecture.
We don’t choose what stays with us.
This is not a search for precision
not a reconstruction
not a diagram
it’s a reflection on the strange ways in which space lingers
in the body,
in gestures,
in the gaps.
how we carry rooms with us
long after we’ve left them
some memories return clearly.
others drift sideways
some expand
some slip between other things
the window so high
the bed too big
the quiet before falling asleep
I draw to slow things down
to let them resurface.
not just what was there,
but what stayed
what moved
what was overheard
what was shared
what I misunderstood
I draw to remember
or maybe to misremember
a room becomes a feeling
walls dissolve
edges blur
rooms stretch or shrink
some walls are missing
It isn’t about how it was,
but how it felt
to be inside
to be small
to be there
how it stayed.
These drawings don’t explain
they don’t measure
they fold
they layer
they stretch.
They leave out what doesn’t stay
sometimes I know exactly where I am
other times I draw first
and the memory arrives after
this is what I had forgotten I remembered
This drawing isn’t final
it doesn’t explain anything
but it gives form
to something I didn’t know I had kept
That’s all I could remember today.
Some things are clearer now.
others I’ll draw again,
differently.