I don’t know if you would remember,We were in 2nd year I think, most probably a Friday night, after a crit, or a presentation, or may be just after a day in the studio I can’t remember. We were sitting in the Marquis, that pub across the library that... I don’t know if you would remember,We were in 2nd year I think, most probably a Friday night, after a crit, or a presentation, or may be just after a day in the studio I can’t remember. We were sitting in the Marquis, that pub across the library that... I don’t know if you would remember,We were in 2nd year I think, most probably a Friday night, after a crit, or a presentation, or may be just after a day in the studio I can’t remember. We were sitting in the Marquis, that pub across the library that...

I don’t know if you would remember,We were in 2nd year I think, most probably a Friday night, after a crit, or a presentation, or may be just after a day in the studio I can’t remember. We were sitting in the Marquis, that pub across the library that smells like beer, but not in an unbearable manner. The Marquis is a bit too small and looks like only elderly men with too much time in their hand would go there to, they would pretend, watch rugby or football, but really would just be an excuse to live their lonely living room for a bit. Although maybe that’s just what a pub is really. Anyway. We were both sitting on those stools at the bar, drinking a pint of beer. The pub wasn’t very crowded at the time, maybe this just indicates that it was a bit early to start drinking. The rest of the design crew was sitting on those tables on the right hand side of the main entrance. I remember we talked about beer, and about home, and how we felt about going back home, but it wasn’t like the thousand other conversations I had about this. That’s going to sound cheesy as fuck but it was quite truthful and honest. And I remember you were really listening. Which is rare, but you knew how to do that when you wanted to.

1.) That first time we met after our first basketball practice and I asked you whereabouts in America you were from, you replied ‘I’m South African’ - Naive young Robin meets international student
2.) How every week you message me asking 'coming to... 1.) That first time we met after our first basketball practice and I asked you whereabouts in America you were from, you replied ‘I’m South African’ - Naive young Robin meets international student
2.) How every week you message me asking 'coming to... 1.) That first time we met after our first basketball practice and I asked you whereabouts in America you were from, you replied ‘I’m South African’ - Naive young Robin meets international student
2.) How every week you message me asking 'coming to... 1.) That first time we met after our first basketball practice and I asked you whereabouts in America you were from, you replied ‘I’m South African’ - Naive young Robin meets international student
2.) How every week you message me asking 'coming to... 1.) That first time we met after our first basketball practice and I asked you whereabouts in America you were from, you replied ‘I’m South African’ - Naive young Robin meets international student
2.) How every week you message me asking 'coming to... 1.) That first time we met after our first basketball practice and I asked you whereabouts in America you were from, you replied ‘I’m South African’ - Naive young Robin meets international student
2.) How every week you message me asking 'coming to...

1.) That first time we met after our first basketball practice and I asked you whereabouts in America you were from, you replied ‘I’m South African’ - Naive young Robin meets international student
2.) How every week you message me asking 'coming to practice?’ and almost always I reply with an excuse or a flat out 'probably not’ because i’m a lazy bastard but you know i’ve got the raw talent and physicality to be the next Shaq (haha)
3.) That time we should have won the beer pong tournament but were too drunk. 'Robin why did you pre-drink for a beer pong tournament?!’
4.) That time me, you and Louis took our shirts off in the SU and ran around, which got you two kicked out but I somehow managed to not get caught.
5.) Winning varsity in 1st year

Oh my dear Ted,
May you rest in peace and eternal serenity. “Hope the big guy’s treating you well up there, buddy”. That’s the kind of thing people tend to say when young guys die, right?
I remember the way we used to chat in class occasionally, the... Oh my dear Ted,
May you rest in peace and eternal serenity. “Hope the big guy’s treating you well up there, buddy”. That’s the kind of thing people tend to say when young guys die, right?
I remember the way we used to chat in class occasionally, the... Oh my dear Ted,
May you rest in peace and eternal serenity. “Hope the big guy’s treating you well up there, buddy”. That’s the kind of thing people tend to say when young guys die, right?
I remember the way we used to chat in class occasionally, the... Oh my dear Ted,
May you rest in peace and eternal serenity. “Hope the big guy’s treating you well up there, buddy”. That’s the kind of thing people tend to say when young guys die, right?
I remember the way we used to chat in class occasionally, the... Oh my dear Ted,
May you rest in peace and eternal serenity. “Hope the big guy’s treating you well up there, buddy”. That’s the kind of thing people tend to say when young guys die, right?
I remember the way we used to chat in class occasionally, the...

Oh my dear Ted,

May you rest in peace and eternal serenity. “Hope the big guy’s treating you well up there, buddy”. That’s the kind of thing people tend to say when young guys die, right?

I remember the way we used to chat in class occasionally, the way we’d glare at each other across the room with joking suspicion, then giggle and wave. Our little joke I guess (though I also did this with Tom and Danny… sorry). What fun. I suppose I felt some kind of affinity with you because of your accent, even though you weren’t American at all. But I felt we could bond over vague conversations of football and basketball. Were you a UNC fan? I can’t recall, but I guess there’s a good chance you might have been.

You were always very encouraging of my graphic design, which I appreciated. Partners in graphic design, that’s how I’ll remember us.

I remember that one time we had Thanksgiving dinner the night after the ball when we were desperately hungover after having stayed out at that wretched Student’s Union until an ungodly hour in the morning.

You were a happy guy, I thought. I guess all of my memories of you are stained in my mind now because your life was so tragically cut short. Your funeral was a somber but incredibly loving occasion, it’s a shame you weren’t there to see it. They always say that about funerals, don’t they. So many tears shed, kind words said, all the things we simply don’t say to each other in person. All of BAD3 came out for it.

You’ve been the talk of Goldsmiths ever since you died. There’s always some lurid spectacle attached to a tragic young death, I suppose. You don’t realise how sickening it is until you’re personally associated with it. You always get the types who want to be the dead guy’s best friend. Anyway, all that will calm down in time, it always does.

Soon my memories of you will simply fade to a vague recollection of “that guy in my BA class who died so horrifically in the final months of the degree”… Honestly I’ll probably remember you much more for your death than for the person you were. Soon others closer to me will die and I won’t remember you at all, I’m afraid.  Then, I too will die. And we all will be one with the soil and the earth. The same as we were before we came to be. Isn’t that beautiful? I think so. There was a time before you and I, Ted. There will be a time after us- as is the case with the endless billions of souls that ever have, do, or will, walk this Earth. We’ll still be here, we always have been. We are simultaneously much more and much less significant than we care to recognise. Both before and after our human lives. Whatever I mean by that, I don’t, and can’t, truly know. Nor can you. That, my dear, is the beautiful mystery of earthly life. Let it remain thus. We will all be forgotten eventually. The human race itself will soon be forgotten. Earth will soon be gobbled up by the Sun. The inconceivable miracle of life on Earth: All the pain, joy, and strife of human life- It all shrinks back into neutrality, into nothing. I see that as a comfort in a way.

As Moby once said, darling Ted, “we are all made of stars”.  I think Moby’s got it right there, both literally and figuratively.

With all my love and affection,

Emma

xoxo

I’m creating a bricks to be used in the building of an architectural structure. Inside of these bricks are memories, inscribed on to metal plates, that friends and family have of me. Once the architectural structures are torn down in the future... I’m creating a bricks to be used in the building of an architectural structure. Inside of these bricks are memories, inscribed on to metal plates, that friends and family have of me. Once the architectural structures are torn down in the future... I’m creating a bricks to be used in the building of an architectural structure. Inside of these bricks are memories, inscribed on to metal plates, that friends and family have of me. Once the architectural structures are torn down in the future... I’m creating a bricks to be used in the building of an architectural structure. Inside of these bricks are memories, inscribed on to metal plates, that friends and family have of me. Once the architectural structures are torn down in the future... I’m creating a bricks to be used in the building of an architectural structure. Inside of these bricks are memories, inscribed on to metal plates, that friends and family have of me. Once the architectural structures are torn down in the future...

I’m creating a bricks to be used in the building of an architectural structure. Inside of these bricks are memories, inscribed on to metal plates, that friends and family have of me. Once the architectural structures are torn down in the future hopefully after a century or there after, these plates are discovered and I will be remembered after my death. These are some of my failed attempts.

A representation through imagery as to how after I die eventually my memory will fade away.

I equated time with a three dimensional area. The room which you see above = half a billion years it has volume of: 1’196’022’755.2cm3. Above five cubes representing 28 years, 100 years, 250 years, 10’000 years & 100’000 years and a British 10 pound... I equated time with a three dimensional area. The room which you see above = half a billion years it has volume of: 1’196’022’755.2cm3. Above five cubes representing 28 years, 100 years, 250 years, 10’000 years & 100’000 years and a British 10 pound...

I equated time with a three dimensional area. The room which you see above = half a billion years it has volume of: 1’196’022’755.2cm3. Above five cubes representing 28 years, 100 years, 250 years, 10’000 years & 100’000 years and a British 10 pound note for scale. These are also highlighted in the image of the room. 

These ‘timescale cubes’ show the timescales with which my project deals with.

Watching some #2001 A Space Odyssey… #wtf is going on?!?!?

RescuedFilm.com

They’ve never been enjoyed. They’ve never been remembered.

Value of Life - Lone Survivor Significant Deaths vs Insignificant Deaths

I cut up the Lone Survivor’s insignificant deaths and added a body count and did the same for all the significant deaths. To ask the question why are people’s lives more valuable than others?

If there is a direct positive correlation to the amount of time an actor’s death is shown in the movie and the value of his life (in the movie) is Taylor Kitsch’s more valuable than one of the Taliban soldiers? Why is anyone’s life more or less valuable than someone else’s?

I do not own any of this footage.

Will’s memory

The beginning of a concept. The aim is to have a family member, friend, acquaintance etc… to approach the deceased and for a fond memory of the two to be shared from the deceased’s point of view.

Megan Carter discussing her father dying at the right time for him to be remembered as “Great”.

Kevin Carter was a photographer who was part of the “Bang Bang Club”. A crew of 4 photographers that chronicled mainly the atrocities of the South African Apartheid. Carter one the Pulitzer Prize in 1994 for this picture:

Value of Life - Saving Private Ryan Significant Deaths vs Insignificant Deaths

I cut up the Saving Private Ryan’s insignificant deaths and added a body count and did the same for all the significant deaths. To ask the question why are people’s lives more valuable than others?

If there is a direct positive correlation to the amount of time an actor’s death is shown in the movie and the value of his life (in the movie) is Hank’s more valuable than one of the soldiers on the beach? Why is anyone’s life more or less valuable than someone else’s?

I do not own any of this footage.

Value of Life - Dark Knight Significant Deaths vs Insignificant Deaths

I cut up the Dark Knight’s insignificant deaths and added a body count and did the same for all the significant deaths. To ask the question why are people’s lives more valuable than others?

If there is a direct positive correlation to the amount of time an actor’s death is shown in the movie and the value of his life (in the movie) is Harvey Dent’s more valuable than one of the Joker’s bank robbers? Why is anyone’s life more or less valuable than someone else’s?

I do not own any of this footage.

“What was once before you an exciting and mysterious future is now behind you. Lived, understood, disappointing. You realise you are not special. You have struggled into existence and are now slipping silently out of it. This is everyone’s experience. Every single one. The specifics hardly matter. Everyone is everyone, so you are Adele, Hazel, Claire, Olive, you are Ellen. All her meagre sadnesses are yours, all her loneliness, the grey straw like hair, her red raw hands, it’s yours. It is time for you to understand this…
Walk.
As the people who adore stop adoring you, as they die, as they move on, as you shed them, as you shed your beauty, your youth, as the world forgets you, as you recognise your transience, as you begin to lose your characteristics one by one, as you learn there is no one watching… and there never was. You think only about driving. Not coming from any place, not arriving any place… just driving, counting off time. Now you are here, it’s 7.43. Now you are here, it’s 7.44. Now you are… gone.”
— Millicient Weems - Synecdoche, New York