A photo of oneself as a toddler may be the first visual evidence of one’s existence, but the moment of its capture and the events outside the frame stubbornly resist the grasp of memory. An enticing gap opens between one’s actual past and one’s imagination, aptly illustrated by Dennis Tupicoff by means of a magical experience at the cinema: falling asleep, waking up and trying to knit the dangling ends of the plot together.

André Eckardt