"Every morning, my mother drew black eyeliner in front of the mirror before doing anything else.
After my mother's passing, her face gradually became less clear in my memory; I began to see her only through shadows and faded light.
I feared forgetting the details of her face.
But I never forget her eyes, because she still draws them every morning.
This short animation is part of a personal docu-fiction project about my mother, which I plan to develop into a larger animated installation in the future.
I wanted to share this test as part of this exhibition, as a face of remembrance, born out of the fear of forgetting. And I hope to eventually bring this project to life.
The technique I used is charcoal on paper, animated under the camera.
To create a sense of blur and fading, I used baking paper as a soft, textured show the feeling of memory slipping away."
After my mother's passing, her face gradually became less clear in my memory; I began to see her only through shadows and faded light.
I feared forgetting the details of her face.
But I never forget her eyes, because she still draws them every morning.
This short animation is part of a personal docu-fiction project about my mother, which I plan to develop into a larger animated installation in the future.
I wanted to share this test as part of this exhibition, as a face of remembrance, born out of the fear of forgetting. And I hope to eventually bring this project to life.
The technique I used is charcoal on paper, animated under the camera.
To create a sense of blur and fading, I used baking paper as a soft, textured show the feeling of memory slipping away."
8
My mother still draws her eyes every morning
