Who are we without our memories? If I could keep just a few memories from my entire life, what would they be? Would I select profound moments, such as the birth of my children, or more obscure memories such as the screech of the cicadas during the height of Illinois summers? Maybe I would hold onto the sound of my husband’s laugh, or keep the recollection of the excitement I felt before a spring storm?
As my life was beginning with enthusiasm and freedoms that often coincide with the start of college years, my grandmother’s life was not necessarily coming to an end, but rather spiraled into a twisted, jumbled existence with the onset of Alzheimer’s. The sneaky disease is a slow - cruel thief that turns the kindest, warmhearted, sound minded individuals into a shell of whom they used to be. It has been decades since my grandmother Adeline passed away, and this painting has been stored/stacked in my mind with other unfinished paintings until Alzheimer’s became another family curse when my affectionate, humorous aunt followed her mother’s fate.
Wouldn’t it be comforting for family, friends, and loved ones if they could be reassured that those who were suffering from Alzheimer’s, could hold onto a few chosen memories until the end of their battle? I know my grandmother did not get such a chance...I remember her overlapping worrying about chores left undone, her missing favorite gray sweater that at times she was wearing while fretting about the loss, or endlessly seeking the farm she once shared with my grandfather. In Memory Thief, I don’t only ask myself what memories I cherish, but also the viewer what they considered sacred and worth remembering.
Memory Thief by Nichole Gronvold Roller at the Alzheimer’s Prevention Center / Clinical Research space at the Brigham and Women’s Hospital in Boston, MA.
Who are we without our memories? If I could keep just a few memories from my entire life, what would they be? Would I select profound moments, such as the birth of my children, or more obscure memories such as the screech of the cicadas during the height of Illinois summers? Maybe I would hold onto the sound of my husband’s laugh, or keep the recollection of the excitement I felt before a spring storm?
As my life was beginning with enthusiasm and freedoms that often coincide with the start of college years, my grandmother’s life was not necessarily coming to an end, but rather spiraled into a twisted, jumbled existence with the onset of Alzheimer’s. The sneaky disease is a slow - cruel thief that turns the kindest, warmhearted, sound minded individuals into a shell of whom they used to be. It has been decades since my grandmother Adeline passed away, and this painting has been stored/stacked in my mind with other unfinished paintings until Alzheimer’s became another family curse when my affectionate, humorous aunt followed her mother’s fate.
Wouldn’t it be comforting for family, friends, and loved ones if they could be reassured that those who were suffering from Alzheimer’s, could hold onto a few chosen memories until the end of their battle? I know my grandmother did not get such a chance...I remember her overlapping worrying about chores left undone, her missing favorite gray sweater that at times she was wearing while fretting about the loss, or endlessly seeking the farm she once shared with my grandfather. In Memory Thief, I don’t only ask myself what memories I cherish, but also the viewer what they considered sacred and worth remembering.
Memory Thief by Nichole Gronvold Roller at the Alzheimer’s Prevention Center / Clinical Research space at the Brigham and Women’s Hospital in Boston, MA.