Paper clocks


This series of drawings was made by the old people in a workshop on memory loss. Studies of dementia and Alzheimer’s say that the first thing that usually goes away in the first symptoms of the disease is the notion of time. A person without a memory is a misfit in the when, rather than the where or who. Forgetting is part of a battle of casualties that arrive in a terrible line of ranking and importance. The first blow bites into our ability to measure the dimension in which we move, as the hours, months and days pass. The first fallen soldier; time. The first light bulb to blow.


The misplaced noon, the repetition of 1 ad infinitum, one o’clock one o’clock one o’clock one o’clock one o’clock. Time frozen, we do not know when. The anaemic clock, the starving clock, the aseptic clock. The time for pills, injections, the weary time. Let us go to sleep now…but we have already slept…let us have breakfast again…let us always have breakfast. A clock showing time coming out of its face like a trilobite, the numbers in an orderly spiral dance, out of orbit; what can be in the head of its owner? The watch without delay, which jumps from 5 to 9, the clock with a bite taken out of the evening. The Dalí clockface, the clockface flattened at its poles, the trembling clockface, the clockface without a face.


In the steeples of Basque churches, the inscription reads accurate and clear, next to the tallest clock in the town: “Danak jo, azkenak hil”. All hours wound, the last one kills.

The final clockface marks the time with a scythe.

(Oskar Alegria Suescun)


Pictures released by the Internacional Documentary Film Festival of Navarra Punto de Vista


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