Holding Space
35mm Film Scans
2024
Preliminary studies for an ongoing archive and installation-based project exploring loss, home, memory, and migration at the Sons of Jacob Synagogue in Providence RI.
Coming in 2025-2026.
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The Sons of Jacob Synagogue sits at the corner of Douglas Avenue and Orms Street in Smith Hill overlooking a complicated interchange of I-95. The “Welcome to Smith Hill” sign sits on the front lawn of the enormous and somehow nearly invisible building. I pull into the overgrown parking lot and enter through the basement into a musty wood paneled lobby and a small sanctuary. On one of the pews sits an ash-filled tray strewn with half-burned Shabbat candles. Prayer books seemingly untouched for years sit on tables. Ahead is a small ark with weathered blue velvet curtains housing two Torah scrolls. Surrounding it are murals of rolling hills. To the left sits a small reception hall. On tables lay white plastic cloths, folded paper napkins, vases of fake flowers, unopened bottles of sparkling grape juice wrapped in golden tinfoil. The room hasn’t been used in years but it’s ready for a simcha (celebration) any day now.
Upstairs, dust covers these pews too, but the room glows. Columns of light shine from tiny bulbs on rows of yahrzeit (memorial) displays- some of the names embossed in brass and wood, others handwritten in tidy shorthand. The bimah (altar) sits raised above the congregation, flanked by columns. The balcony beckons. Looking up, the domed ceiling is covered in a fresco of blue sky, fluffy clouds, tiny birds, and beautiful depictions of the signs of the zodiac. At its center, a large crystal chandelier. The room is warm. It has a heartbeat. It’s still very much alive.