Christmas is coming, ready or not. Unlike my childhood when I started the countdown around Labor Day, the Christmas spirit wafts in slowly these days. I will get there. It
Nineteen days and counting. Christmas is coming, ready or not. Unlike my childhood when I started the countdown around Labor Day, the Christmas spirit wafts in slowly these days. I
IN THE WINTER OF 1972, around the time Manhattan gallerygoers were immersing themselves in Memory a sprawling installation comprising over a thousand tiled photographs and several hours of tape-recorded text amassed by the American poet Bernadette Mayer the French writer of memory Annie Ernaux and her then-husband, Philippe, bought a Bell and Howell Super 8 camera. Mayer, who died this year and who in life seemed ahead of the future, once imagined “a computer or device that could record everything you think or see, even for a single day” a thought Ernaux would echo across space and time: “Someday,