I remember
June 2026
DNSEP graphic & digital design project, ESAD of Reims


Everyone has a photo album somewhere. Accumulated images that no longer quite correspond to what we say about them today. Leafing through my grandmother's silver gelatin prints, handwritten labels, cut-out pictures, I understood that the album wasn't an archive, it was a constant reconstruction. I said to her, "Tell me about your trip" and I then gathered something other than a narrative: precise details about some images, silences about others, fragments barely named, parts entirely gone. Memory doesn't preserve faithfully; it chooses, it fills in the gaps, it transforms. It is in these discrepancies, between what we have lived, what we keep, and what we forget, that the way we inhabit our own experiences is revealed.