Dysfunctional Prophets

“When nothing else subsists from the past, after the people are dead, after the things are broken and scattered...the smell and taste of things remain poised a long time, like souls...bearing resiliently, on tiny and almost impalpable drops of their essence, the immense edifice of memory” -Marcel Proust As an immigrant child from the USSR I began to address my identity at an early age. Growing up on the lower east side of Manhattan among many other immigrants did not make me an exclusive case, but ftting in among the more prominent cultures at the time was challenging. Trading the Soviet Union for America at the age of six was not trading worse for better, as a child I had no concept of politics or oppression. In essence it was a reincarnation. The switch was so sudden that I could not adequately comprehend it. From having a whole family to having half, from innocence to reality, from understanding the language to not. From play to discipline. From noise to silence. From warm sepia to loud color. In these simple terms I can convey the memory of our immigration. Thirtytwo years have passed and I am still living with its impact. Through animation, found objects and sound, I attempt to reconnect with the child that lived through this metamorphosis as well as to convey the complicated nature of our immigration. The suitcases act as a stage showcasing poignant memories from my Russian and American childhoods. The distortions that occurred to the innate personalities of my foregoers in order to survive revolution, war, famine and the soviet regime became more and more apparent as I developed. The concept of this project was born out of a desire to understand the soviet mentality with which I was raised. A mentality which is riddled with stern unforgiving convictions and moralities