Porcelain & Butter
23 in X 14 in X 14 in
I remember, when I was really young, I used to eat butter whenever I had the chance; every time I went to a restaurant, I would stuff my mouth with it. I would go so far, as to collect the butter squares from the dining table, and slip them into the pockets of my pants, preciously saving them for a later snack. At night, when my parents folded my clothes, they would find the creamy yellow gloss on their fingers. This used to drive my mother crazy.
As I grew up, and understood why it was not right to put butter in my pants, eating butter became more taboo for health reasons. I began to restrict myself, I had to phase my infatuation out, and eventually my obsession with butter was forgotten by my family. Since then, I can only remember waking up at my grandmother’s house to the sweet smell of pancakes; she would always let me eat all the butter I wanted, and since it was forbidden in front of my parents, I remember stuffing my mouth, with chunks of buttery happiness.
Many years later when she had a stroke, she came to live with me, and we stayed together, until I left my life in Mexico, by then her memory was already melting away. A couple of months ago, I was told by my dad, that the last time she saw a picture of me, she had a hard time remembering my face.
Since then, I was left in a space of questioning the affect of aging, and often wondering, how long do I have, until someone that I so dearly love, completely forgets me.
Photos & Videos: Cartú