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‘People used to make records, as in the record of an event, the event of people making music in a room’ Ani Di Franco
The same could be said of an album, an album of photographs, passed down by your granny, pointing out faces, names, stories, memories of days gone. We made a record, we made an album, a record of Leith and its memories, an album of faces and tales. What happens when these voices pass? Memories relayed, layer upon layer of stories, of lives, of truths, overlapping, disagreeing, making a cacophony of words, images and rhythms of life. We look through these layers each day, lingering on the façades of buildings, the arch of a bridge, the reflection of Leith’s water. If these buildings could talk, the stones would reverberate and long for us to listen. Memory is something fragile, half-remembered half-imagined, and within each person a reality is created, held and then shared. Our record is a record of this intangible layer of Leith. Our album is an album of invisible photos of the mind.