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Doug Hall

Time, Memory, and the Winter Oaks of Olompali Valley

I.

Standing among the oaks of Olompali Valley, I was reminded of a passage from Marcel Proust’s Swann’s Way. He writes, “I feel there is much to be said for the Celtic belief that the souls of those whom we have lost are held captive in some inferior being, in an animal, in a plant, in some inanimate object, and are effectively lost to us until the day (which to many never comes) when we happen to pass by the tree or to obtain possession of the object which forms their prison. Then they start and tremble, they call us by our name, and as soon as we have recognized their voice the spell is broken. We have delivered them: they have overcome death and return to share our life.”

 

II.

Clive Wearing, an eminent British musician and musicologist, suffered a brain infection that erased his long-term memory and deprived him of accumulating any new memories. Without recall, each blink of the eye revealed a new scene, while the scene before was entirely forgotten. When asked what it was like he responded, “No difference between day and night. No thoughts at all. No dreams. Day and night, the same – blank. Precisely like death.”

 

III.

Given that we share ninety percent of our DNA with cats, seventy percent with slugs, sixty percent with bananas, fifty percent with trees, forty-four percent with honeybees, and twenty-five percent with daffodils, can’t we fairly say that all living things are connected?

 

IV.

Emerging scientific evidence suggests that the universe is finite – sort of like an expanding, cosmic donut with no edges – and that there is nothing beyond it. But if that is the case, how can the universe, which is some thing, be contained within, and expand into, no thing?

 

V.

The age of the universe is thought to be about 13.4 billion years, which means that the average human life will occupy approximately 0.000000634328358% of cosmological time.

 

VI.

I think of memory as falling into two broad categories: melodic and studied. Melodic memory arises unexpectedly and unconsciously, appearing like the fleeting fragment of a song. Studied memory, ingrained through repetition, is willed into existence by conscious effort. Melodic memory, first cousin to dreaming, stirs the poignancy of remembrance and loss; studied memory provides resources for the challenges of everyday life.

 

VII.

The star named Earendel, located in the constellation of Cetus, is the most distant star ever observed. When seen from Earth, we are looking at light that was emitted 12.9 billion years ago – a mere 900 million years after the Big Bang.

 

VIII.

In several billion years after the universe collapses and memory no longer exists, will the universe, without memory to account for it, have existed at all?

 

 

All images: edition of 6 + 2 APs at 48 x 61 inches; edition of 10 at 20 x 24 inches

Doug Hall, a media artist, photographer, and writer, has an extensive history spanning over fifty years. His work in diverse media is held in numerous public and private collections in the United States and Europe, including the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, MoMA, and Tate Modern. His autobiography, This Is Doug Hall: A Memoir is being published by ORO Editions and will be available by mid-December 2024. He is represented by Rena Bransten Gallery, San Francisco and Benrubi Gallery, New York. He lives in San Francisco.
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