[2013047] The Dead Ones
Margie Fischer @ Migration Museum
2:00pm, Sat 23 Feb 2013
I seem to be mentioning my parents more and more on this blog, and the fact of the matter is that they’re old (hell, I am old). They’re both in their eighties, Mum has Alzheimer’s, and Dad appears to be using his lifelong hoarding habits to collect different forms of lymphoma (though, thankfully, he’s only managed two so far). Which is to say that, as much as I’d love for it not to be so, there’s a little bit of my mind that is steeling itself for their deaths.
Which made Margie Fischer’s autobiographical account of the period following her mother’s death – leaving her the last living member of her family – a little bit… well, challenging, emotionally.
Margie reads from notes and journal entries she made in the aftermath of her mother’s death, making The Dead Ones feel like a lecture (or, more literally, a book reading). The text is raw as her cleanup process causes her to encounter objects in the house, sparking memories and their associated tales – the escape of her Jewish parents from Nazi-occupied Austria. Her father’s work in China prior to their eventual migration to Australia. The death of her younger brother. But, in equal measure, some of the less morbid moments of family life are also revisited – dinners shared, habits mocked.
Whilst the mood of the piece never descended into abject misery, Fischer’s attempts to lighten things with an occasional wry comical reflection didn’t always work; and whilst the collection of photos projected throughout the readings never really dipped into overt sentimentality, the closing sequence – the lighting of a series of candles at an almost glacial pace – clearly did make a lunging attempt to clutch at the heart-strings. Fischer’s readings, however, almost introduced a distance from the words themselves; far from becoming absorbed in the readings, she appears to keep them at an emotional arm’s-length – perhaps necessarily so. There’s also a very noticeable repetition of memories, as different objects triggered recollections that led to the same destination.
The Dead Ones seemed to focus on the material things that are left behind by lost loved ones, and considered what those things mean in life, death, and memory. And as Fischer cleared out the cupboards of her past, a somewhat raw nerve was struck within me – because sometime (hopefully not-too-) soon, I’m going to have to face the same process – sorting through the articles that meant so much to my family, and trying to reconcile what they still mean to me. And, with my Dad having hoarded all manner of junk for well over forty years now, that’s going to be a long and painful job.