After a loved one passes, all we tend to do is reminisce. Although musing these memories may provide comfort, it doesn't take long for said musings to become curiosities. Though I was lucky to share 20+ years with my grandparents, I have no clue who they were before I came into the picture. As a yonsei (4th generation Japanese American) my family had built a foundation in America, but because of the tragic combination of America’s past actions (WWII draft, internment, etc.) and the overbearing pride of a Japanese American, my grandparents never wanted to talk about it. 

These questions and a few (very conveniently and fairly well organized) boxes of family photographs, books and artifacts have led to something I call Their Archives.

Reminiscion shifted towards the where that ponders the how and for how long.
When mind’s beauty fabricates over the lapses, when our perceived past is almost not.
Beauty is the unintentionally fictional certainty made to protect what we will forget.
Beauty is the rose that we conceive.

Their Archives is a project that encapsulates our personal relativity with their time through the tangible objects, images and places that our loved ones considered as “somethings”. Something’s that have not only allowed me to explore Los Angeles with a different intention but are pushing me to follow my family’s past through the places they called home. Something’s that tell stories, and that can teach us lessons about everything that is and will still continue to happen to us; as long as we take the time to look, research and explore.



Conlon, Elda (Potter)
06–23–1920 / 10-27-2012
Seattle, WA / Twenty Nine Palms, CA


©Their Archives 2021
Beauty is the unintentionally fictional certainty made to protect what we will forget. Beauty is the rose that we conceive.