Memoir project




The assignment is to explain a deeper shift in our personal shifts and history through the use of five body parts. 



Memoir Project

Oscar Schrag


Professor Wilson



The slender stride of silver faun. The fog rolls in bundles like a blanket bringing a chill that forms tiny ice crystals on the beard of the soul. The eucalyptus sway in the onslaught of marine moisture. As breath increases so does the pound of hundreds of hearts. Pain stricken faces and the pounding of a millions hoofs. Sand and the smell of horse shit assault the nose bringing with it an onslaught of coughs. Legs turning from a paper white to a purple then a light pink as the final sand washed corner peeks into sight. The digital tic of a thousand watches sync into panic when the quarter hour is reached. From toes to calf to bicep in one electric current.

Veiny hands

The smell of a freshly baked loaf of a nutty wheat bread wafts into a thick carpeted minnesota  living room. The result of hours of kneading the solid movement of tiny wrists moving in circles. The hands of a matriarch laced with the purple yarn of liquid energy running up and down the body. Hands, bringing life scenes of nature seen from a thousand lakeshores and snow from winters past. Style and skill market through generations of frail blood laced extremities cover the walls of the tall lean house that hosts an ocean of dust. Hands placing a record on the turntable the needle is placed and Stille Nacht reverberates into the tall ceilinged room, reminding her of a world that has long since disappeared.


As far as an escape is concerned hair holds this power like no other. As bleach burns itself into pigment a sharp hot sensation hits the scalp reminding of the cost of this endeavour. There is no better artistry than changing one’s own appearance until it goes horribly wrong. Yet there is always someone with sage like advice to fix the chemical disaster. A communal experience as bleach fumes waft out of the tiny bathroom the craze of achieving an ever lighter color while walking the line of total cranial destruction. There is no better way to point out generational differences than through hair. Dinner table conversations turn from the latest in credit card fraud to the next  hair color.


Work due, deliveries to make, models to book, tech assistant to find, class to register, social interaction to appear normal at, photos to edit, people to meet. The relatively minor amount of anxiety finds its way like a needle into skin, at the hinge of the mandible. The pierce of this needle keeps its hold tightening like a python around an antelope. The night filled with the grinding of bone against bone as layers are peeled away. The motion of hand to jaw prompts the release of two nights of pain. The sensation waiting to return.  


Toes curve to create a four toed foot. With already slim fit mens shoes become ever more elusive. Long walks on a fog covered beach coupled with the smell of a bonfire lead to the aftermath of smoke filled clothing and a million sand particles lodged between the cracks and webs of these slender feet. As the sand is showered off, like small animals the white milky color becomes ever more present. It is only when they are left unattended in the sun that they turn from milky white to a bright pink. Yet even when red the arches and curve remain the very same.

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