What about a memory, if anything, makes up an identity?  What does it mean to lose a memory, and what does it take to learn to forget?  How mutable is a recollection, and what makes a thought 'real'?  Who are you right now?  Can a memory be shared, copied?  To what extent?  Is it possible to grow by means of regression?  How do we remember slowly?

Mnemonic Mercury explores what it means to forget and asks how much we can concede while maintaining personal identity.  Twelve color-film photographs mounted on aluminum plates line the walls of the gallery, each a window into a memory and identity.  

At the far end of the gallery is a video comprised of 32 color-film images.  A computer has procedurally filled the gaps between each frame, making 32 images into 64, then 128, 256, until they become fluid.  Only a fraction of the information presented here can be considered 'original'.  False-frames are rendered from false-frames, but it hardly feels adequate to dub this memory as 'false'.