“Words, like roses, fade with time, leaving only their echo in memory and their image immortalized in the fleeting nature of what once was.”
“Las palabras, como las rosas, se desvanecen con el tiempo, dejando solo su eco en la memoria y su imagen inmortalizada en la fugacidad de lo que fue.”
— Mithea D.
Three Artist Books: The Fragility of Memory and Words
This project traverses the boundary between matter and oblivion, exploring the fleeting nature of memory and words through three artist books.
The first is a mini-installation of three roses in different stages of wilting, supported by inverted plastic cups. The first still stands tall, the second begins to lean, and the last has fallen, defeated. In the central cup, a small pile of burnt matches hints at what has been consumed, what is beyond recovery. On the dried petals, the phrase “me quiere, ya no me quiere” is repeated like a whisper fading with time. In the end, only its photographic image survives, bearing witness to what once was.
The second artist book is a dismantled pinwheel, its pieces covered with the phrase “Palabras que se las llevó el viento” (Words carried away by the wind), written in black ink on a silver background. The interrupted movement speaks of the ephemeral nature of language, its errant fate, and its inevitable disappearance.
The third is a roll of toilet paper where a poem was written and then lost. Only traces remain: “Hypnotic sounds and sugar lumps…” Fragments of a voice dissolving over time, slipping into oblivion with each use.
More than books, these objects are thresholds: traces of words, remnants of a discourse that resists disappearing, reflections of memory in its eternal flight.
— Mithea D.