But there are infinite less trodden pathways and unexpected passages or unsuspected connections. Every now and then, an opening leads us to a long series of linked corridors and chambers, some of which we remember having visited before, others surprising us by their existence. Memory is like an iceberg. A bit of it is visible at times, but the great bulk is underneath and will only reveal itself in part and at its will. Without memory we have no identity, no past, no culture.
Memory is perhaps the most important single component of consciousness, yet the most evasive.
Our past life fades away inescapably, and we gradually forget even the people dearest to us when they die. I have dealt with memory in several of my conceptual art works. This particular installation was inspired by a collection of nearly 1500 art postcards left after the death of my dearest friend, who had shared my life for over thirty years. Because postcards are confined to short messages, their format suggested the nature of the piece. During the past two years I have filled some 750 of the postcards, trying not to repeat myself.