REBECCA DUNNE

the website of

(on looking at a photograph from an archive & on examining a problematic archive)

What do I see?

I see a picture. I see a black and white picture. I see a black and white picture of a photograph. I see the sky at the top of the picture, and there appears to be some clouds in the sky. I see land that takes up most of this picture, land that is uneven. I see land that rises slightly in the background in some unevenly shaped hills and points. I see vegetation that is covering most of this land.
I see vegetation that is possibly some form of grass. I see several strands of this grass-like vegetation that are longer than most of the others to the left of the picture. I see a darker piece growing just beside that. I see many rocks and stones throughout the whole picture. I see patches of this land where there is less vegetation and I can see the earth looks paler than the vegetation is in these patches. I see the figure of a person in the distance, on the right hand side of this picture. I see a shape noticeably sticking up from the land on the right hand side of the picture that stands out against the sky behind it. I see in the centre of the picture a pile of rocks and stones on top of one another to form a slightly rectangular shape as a whole. I see there are many different sizes and shapes to these rocks and stone; some are small and more textured, some are flatter on the surface facing out, some are more rounded, some are jagged, some are flatter and smoother. I see there is one larger, more pointed stone sticking up from this pile of rocks and stone. I see there is a tree or small bush to the very right of the tip of this larger stone, but in the background.


What are my questions or assumptions?

I see this pile of rocks that may be out on its own, not close to any settlement.
I see this pile of rocks that may be on the edge of a settlement, which we cannot see from the perspective of this picture.
I see this pile of rocks that may be a tomb.
I see this pile of rocks that may mark a grave.
I see this pile of rocks that may provide shelter to living things and dead things.
I see this pile of rocks that may be living quarters.
I see this pile of rocks that may be a toilet.
I see this pile of rocks that may provide a ceremonial function;
I see this pile of rocks that may be a place of sacrifice, worship, or praise.
I see this pile of rocks that may be a place to cook.
I see this pile of rocks that may be a sculpture.
I see this pile of rocks that may be a seat, or a throne.
I see this pile of rocks that may have been made by adults, or by children, and may be used by adults, or by children.
I see this pile of rocks that may be a landmark.
I see this pile of rocks that may mark the site of water, or be a well.
I see this pile of rocks that may be a sundial.
I see this pile of rocks that may be a meeting point.
I see this pile of rocks that may be a place to cook.
I see this pile of rocks that may be a place of interrogation.
I see this pile of rocks that may be open on the side we cannot see.
I see this pile of rocks that may be a wall.
I see this pile of rocks that may be a collapsed or dilapidated structure.
I see this pile of rocks that may just be a collection of rocks.
I see this pile of rocks that may provide no function.
I see this pile of rocks that may have been danced around.
I see this pile of rocks that might not want to be here,
And then we move onto the sentience of rocks,
Or not even the sentience of rocks but the decision of rocks.
Autonomy of rocks, autonomous archive, autonomous memory.
Which one does not exist?

I want to ask:
Why preserve all of it? Why the struggle, futile, to grasp and preserve the material? The material deteriorates and destroys. The material is unreliable, materially and in content. I could tell you a story about my grandfather who sat on a stone wall having his lunch of tea and cheese sandwiches while taking a break from working the land. I could tell you a story about the time I sat on a nettle on a stone wall and stung my hand trying to get off it, and when my mother pulled out her camera, I had to smile and pretend my hand was not stinging like hell, so the picture exists of me aged six, smiling, sitting on my hand, and only I can still feel the prickling nettle.
I start out at a point and say: let me investigate to know more. I dig, I search, I find, I read, I make a note, I put two and two together. Putting two and two together takes me in more than four directions: I draw conclusions, I make assumptions, I guess, I avoid, I invent, I pick and choose the sometimes convenient or interesting or juicy, I decide, I am told by one person this definitely happened here, and yet their sister disputes it saying it definitely happened there. The more I know, the more there is to know, the more unknowable it becomes. I see it once and file it away, I am handed a box and say ‘tomorrow’ for a day that never comes. I avoid some questions, I think as a whole, I see the forest from the trees, I need a map, I make a map, I have a system and it only makes sense to me. I make a decision, I mind my own business, I mine my own business and some that are not my own. I feel paralysed and shake with fear, I take a step, I say something, and there’s no going back now.
What meant one thing then means another thing now, this is for certain.
We cannot retrace and start fresh there, only layer on this. Acknowledge the wrongs and the rights, the mistakes, the discomfort, the piling up endlessly of meaning and no meaning, the human.
You can’t take it with you, in the end, so leave it behind.
Someone else might pick it up.