Dear sentimental human,

What would you take if you had a minute longer, a little extra space, some weight to spare. No one’s looking. Make sure it doesn’t exceed your emotional capacity. Be certain that you can carry it. Is the decision clear and easy? Does the family whose home is in the path of a wild fire make a packing list? War refugees on an overloaded boat. The undocumented farmer crossing the deadly desert border. The seasonal migrant following work across country. Imported laborers constructing mega sports stadiums. Electronics factory workers living in crowded company dorms. An old couple helplessly watching flood waters rise. A gift, a souvenir, an heirloom, a religious artifact, a nothing thing. Objects hold the weight of memory.

Can you carry it?

AB


Tags: migration, movement, travel, loss, memory, valuables, possessions, ownership, home, sentimentality, postcards from an artist, 120 words


DISLOCATE: Postcards from an Artist

Holla back, call and response, talking to the screen. April pens a series of postcards, poetic open letters, to the people, places and objects in a selection of this year’s films. These films have inhabited her dreams, salted her tears, stoked a hopeful anger. Art imitates life inspires art in this uninvited collaboration with the filmmakers, an exquisite corpse from film to word. Share on Facebook • Share on Twitter • Share on Google 




ABOut the artist

April Banks is a conceptual artist, intentional inbetweener and border crosser. Driven by immersive observation and questioning, her obsession with research usually dissolves into happy accidents that shape shift between photography, installation, writing, and collaborative experiments.

Currently, April is melting her nostalgia for postcards into a multimedia digital project. The beauty of the postcard is how it travels simultaneously with the traveler, perhaps in the opposite direction, across borders where the traveler may not even be permitted to go. Everyone travels everyday, as much in (day) dreams, a walk to an ethnic food store, a book, a news article, a film, a song, as with a passport and a plane. She pairs her international peregrinations with time travel, traipsing through historical archives and memories, questioning what we think we know of the past and how it informs our cultural positioning systems.

Equally addicted as confused, she experiences travel as an existential conundrum, yet can’t seem to say no.

View more of April Banks' work here.