WHAT REMAINS OF US by Pedro Serrazina

Why do we accumulate things? Why do we collect objects, books, records, stamps?

'What Remains of Us' explores the relationship between the physical space once inhabited and what was left behind as proof of life.

From the space of various houses and the collections (family letters and postcards, photographs, stamps, dolls) that were left in them, this documentary seeks to build a view of a time that has passed.

The space of the house and its objects appear as the last material evidence and archive of a physical way of living, in danger of disappearing with the increasing digitization of human experience.

'What Remains of Us' is a personal reflection of recent changes in my life: moving to London, returning to Lisbon 15 years later and the death of my mother. These changes led me to have to deal with pending family issues, with a natural emotional but also physical burden, as they were all reflected in the family spaces.

The process of (re)discovery that the departure of some awakens in those who remain, is inevitable and has already been discussed a lot, but its spatial translation proved to be particularly touching, especially during a period when I was writing a PhD on the use of space in cinema in general, and in animation in particular. What remains of a life, its physical traces, are never just the solitary echo of an ephemeral passage, but the multiple reflections of that passage. Belongings, objects and collections are traces that define identity in a plural way: that of the person who lived and also that of the place where they lived. With absence, the space "that remains" takes on a temporary archival function, accumulating records of experiences that define a time lived in its various expressions: individual, social and cultural. The need to tidy up collections and objects left over from my mother revealed a larger universe, sparking a documentation process that went beyond the realm of the family to reach a wider context.

As I photographed and packed away the thousands of objects and collections that filled the house that was now mine (which had once been my mother's and, before that, my parents'), I was revealing "archaeological" layers of personal, family and cultural time. In the process, I realized that, with this space of a house and objects that I was now dismantling, forever, I was also erasing the material evidence and archive of a physical way of living that is disappearing with the increasing digitization of human experience. Like the house in Cartaxo that she never managed (or wanted) to fix up, the collections that my mother left (me), filling an apartment in Benfica, were a way of affirming her presence, of preserving her memory. Without needing the approval of social networks, these places of memory were themselves the physical representation of another communication system that is now (almost) obsolete: postcards and collections exchanged over the years with distant but regular friends mapped out a network of contacts that contradicts the image of someone who lived alone for 25 years. Started from a project in which animation played the main role, this documentary grows as a result of real-image filming and photographs of the spaces I abandoned to become lighter, freer to build my own space. One of the illusions that the web and social networks have created is that of constant proximity, but the world wasn't as big before, nor were people as isolated as the technologies that impose the urgency of the present make us believe. When the virtual experience sets out to replace and/or (re)construct our own memory, collections like my mother's are proof of life as a physical act, "travel" memories of a girl who left Cartaxo and got to know the world and others in the form of postcards, dolls and lots of handwritten words. By a strange coincidence, during the period in which I am writing this project, I receive confirmation that the house in Cartaxo has been sold. As a result, the house where my mother was born will be demolished. The process of erasing the physical marks of her presence will thus be irreversible. The need for this documentary thus becomes more pressing: not as a tribute to what I have erased with my actions, but as a record of a space and way of life that is disappearing, as a (re)affirmation of a part of my own identity. Between the spaces of the house in Cartaxo and an apartment in Benfica, between collections and postcards, we follow the journey from the province to the big city, the transformation of a country coming out of the isolation of the dictatorship, (re)finding individual history and collective memory, discovering what is left of us. This documentary will be constructed from footage taken in Cartaxo and Benfica, photographs of objects and collections, songs and radio programs, and testimonies from family members. The multiplicity of formats and techniques will be taken up on screen as a representation of the accumulation of times, lives and eras. The use of animation, based on sketches of places, objects (and perhaps people), will bridge the gap between the factual record of the real image and the memory of what has disappeared. This structure could be based on a visual process close to the storyboard and animatic (animated storyboard), a tool I have mastered given my experience in animated cinema. The initial development should arise from an editing process that is more emotive and exploratory than from an intellectual systematization of writing that predetermines the narrative structure.

Written and Directed by: Pedro Serrazina

Cinematography: João Ribeiro

Colorization: Gonçalo Ferreira

Production: Ansgar Schaefer