Oblivion
What we store in our minds shapes our identity—without memories, it is difficult to define who we truly are. The “Oblivion” series is an attempt to visually capture the experience of losing a part of oneself and the feeling of a blurred existence.
Seven years ago, I was diagnosed with a brain tumor, which had a long-lasting impact on my ability to recall the past. I lost fifteen years of my life, and in their place, only fragments remained—flickering, incomplete images that my mind tried to piece together through confabulations, adding elements that had never existed. This experience is difficult to describe in words, so I express it through images.
Each portrait reveals a different part of a person—nothing is fully visible in its entirety. What we see is merely a fragment, an elusive reflection of something that is no longer fully accessible.
The face I photograph is not my own—and that is a deliberate choice. Losing one’s identity comes with a feeling of detachment from one’s own body, moments when the reflection in the mirror seems to belong to someone else. I wanted to convey this state—the sense of distance from oneself. Another person became the medium of my story because when the past fades in the mind, we might as well exist in someone else’s skin.
This series was also inspired by memories of my grandmother, who suffered from Alzheimer’s. I remember how she would stand in front of a mirror and fail to recognize herself—she did not know who the person staring back at her was. That image stayed with me forever and became part of my own search for answers: What remains of a person when their past disappears?
Do we still exist if we no longer have access to our own memories? And if so, where—within the heart, the mind, in our gestures? “Oblivion” is a reflection on an existence suspended between what once was and what has dissolved into an undefined void.
Kamila J Gruss
02.02.2025 Słupsk