Pencil Drawings on Plywood
Oct 5th – 28th, 2013
Redbud Gallery, Houston, Texas, USA

© Violeta Alvarez

© Violeta Alvarez

© Lynet McDonald


History is the story of human, a container.
History is collecting, recording, classifying, organizing. It is letting go and accepting. History is time locked in as texts, images, statues, monuments.
Does history contain knowledge? Can we assume things to happen in a certain way also in the future?
Memory is not flawless. Still the wish for a right answer, a cause, a meaning exists.

Who decides what is saved and why, and how. Why is there a search for the “new” from the old that changes and rewrites history. Is to find an absolute value.
In spite of this motion history sustains its monumentality.
History is a labyrinth you can’t get out of.

A private history is I, the self. I am the same as my memories, without memory I do not exist.
Do I remember correctly. The power I inflict on myself is terrifying. What do I want to remember. What do I want to forget.
Am I the same as before. If not, am I still responsible for what I did. Do I repent. Am I a victim.
The change, when does it occur. Is it something one can perceive. Maybe I don’t suddenly wake up to realize that I have lived in delusion or that I have changed. Maybe I truly am somebody else.

Do I remember others. Who do I know. To know, others and myself, is based on repetition. To recognize repetition is dependent on memory.
I play the role of me and circle around it.

I am all. I can see others disappear, but not thyself. My history never ends.