Andrew Brister
Who… am I? The abstraction of distant memories that serve to remind me of the excitement, grief or anxiety of childhood?
What…am I? A fleet of squares floating across the synapses of a brain, or a vessel used to relive or relieve a moment of time that ceases to exist while also exist in concurrence with the present?
When… am I? Is it still 2003 in my bedroom rolling digital dice with my brother or am I now an adult immortalizing that memory through the screen of a tablet on a drawing software?
Where…am I? Inside a JRPG fighting off an omnipotent science experiment, a colorful world where mushrooms have eyes and I’m flying through the clouds via winged caps, or am I just sitting in front of a CRT imagining that I am there?
Why…am I? Sometimes I wonder if I am meant to use these memories to feel safe, to feel good, to feel young, but other times I feel that I need to move away from them to pursue the future of new experiences.
I look into mirrors to see how I have aged so significantly and into the sheet of pixels to place myself back into the shoes of innocence, leading me to ask myself:
Who…are you?
