Heather160

Pool  (not pocket) For our project, my partner Zoya and I have decided to use Hunter's own chlorinated body of water, which, up until this point in our college careers... neither one of us had a ctually been to. That's right - we're after that pool. When it comes down to it, a lot of our collective childhood memories can be reduced to indoor pools - swim lessons, sports, elementary school gym class - you name it. The heavy familiarity of chlorine in the air, the lap of water against the edges of the pool, the squeak of shoes on damp tile - Hunter's indoor pool could be an indoor pool anywhere. Again, the cliche of childhood and familiarity. I reckon it's a commonality among most of us to recall this sort of discomforting memory of uniformity  - a lot like putting on dry clothes without drying all that chlorine water off first. 1. Wide shot of entire pool area/room, ideally taken from a corner of a the room 2. Detail shot of the water at the center o...

As a rather clueless 20-something, most of what little memory I have is selective -- if anything, minuscule details, like the twitches per minute of my Mother's eye (as I drove our car into a ditch my very first time driving), or the hysteric-sad laughter that bubbled up at my Grandfather's funeral, seem to be the only things that really stick. Luckily for me, much of my childhood, as well as my two older brothers', was meticulously captured on tape by my Father. From birthday parties, to weddings, to sticky-fingered pumpkin-gut carving and lazy Sundays, my Dad somehow managed to capture it all. In fact, much of the space in our living room was devoted to countless VHS tapes, lovingly titled "Kenny's stuff, Stephen's 12th Birthday" or "Heather's Dance," in his nearly illegible scrawl. My memories, and the memory of my family long before I was born, are but a VCR away. Candid eye-rolls, moments of love (and pure annoyance) -- they're all ...