Zoraida Anaya

I, Me, Myself: Drying the Wet Sand, Nostalgia, and the “Sandy” City

In exploring my identity, I incorporated a family heirloom—an autograph book that belonged to my late mother. In this video I blow sand to uncover the hidden book, which I brought with me from the “sandy” city to Turtle Island, marking the 30th anniversary of my arrival here. This gesture is both personal and symbolic: it evokes the unfamiliar terrain I encountered upon my landing, and invites the viewer to feel that same sense of the unknown—the known unknown that shaped my experience.The autograph book itself measures 7 x 4.5 inches. Its cover is cardboard wrapped in light blue silk fabric, delicate and faded. The pages inside are paper-thin, filled with messages from my mother’s friends written between 1945 and 1948, just three years after the end of World War II. Their graceful calligraphy stirs a sense of nostalgia—a quiet reminder of a time when people connected through handwritten notes. One could say these messages were the social media of their time. Yet unlike the virtual texts of today, these words were crafted by hand—just as I use my breath to reveal the buried book. Lungs instead of fingers, air instead of ink.

“Sand is a material I feel connected to in the exploration of my cross-cultural identity. I am fascinated by its softness, color, weight, and texture. Another reason, closer to home, is that I grew up in Barranquilla, known as the “sandy” city. Like humans, sand comes in different sizes. The sand on the beach of the Tkaronto Island is a small grain known as silt in the earth sciences. The silt is tiny and easily pushed by air. In my artwork, it represents the movement of humans from one country to another. I hope to develop this idea further in a future work. ”