Ha Huy Anh Pham
Ha Huy Anh Pham
Daria Oprean
Daria Oprean
Pham: 
"The first thing that comes to my mind after hearing "Heritage" are the stunning natural wonders and the artificial attractions in the old quarters of a city. But then below the surface heritage means so much more to me. Just like you said, it could also be the small fried noodle store of an old lady and her daughters or simple recipes of caramelized pork that my mother taught me a few years ago. To me though, the rituals make up for the biggest part of "heritage" and sometimes they bring pain and discomfort for the ones having to follow them. That's why I took this photo of a young woman's bed after the wedding ceremonies. She has to give up the place she once called home and transition into a new familial phrase. Whether the new home is accommodating or unwelcoming, or whether the transition is just a superficial one, it'll always be daunting and experienced with a tinge of sadness. And despite all of that, the newlywed must continue to keep up the appearance of being happy and to show her joy of marrying her husband. Thus the question raises itself: do the sting and discomfort of individuals having to obey traditions, which itself is just heritage being forced down from generation to generation, outweigh the risk of losing a ritual?"
Daria: 
"W
hen I first found out that heritage was this week's theme, I instantly thought about how I felt mine was slipping away. Heritage in the sense of my culture, the rituals, the care, the food and most importantly the language. In Romania, each part of the country has different rituals, that are all very divided. Same goes for the taste of food in each household. Even now I can distinct the sides of my family from their pickle recipe, their alcohol and from what geographical placement they have on the map based on the things they give me when I leave. Whether it being strawberry jam, pine syrup, pig fat or chickens, you can't show up empty handed, and you never leave without something either. 
Food is and alcohol (palinca) are the things that bring the families together. You're happy, you eat. You're sad, you eat. Someone dies or gets marries, you eat. And all these times, the family's there for you. 
There is a strong sense of heritage that I feel just from the way I was raised, from the hospitality, hunger (whether for food, money, or peace), and peace that everything will pass. 
However this is also heavily amplified by the fact that I am no longer there anymore. So because I took a distance, Romania and my extended  family become a feeling of comfort. It's a short amount of time when we can only talk about the good parts, and remember good times, because we don't have time for the bad. 
Heritage, as property or goods can be very damaging in a post-communist society where people's main priority is still to own, to have, and to show. Property and land, are the main reasons why families in Romania haven't spoken to each other in years, in generations. 
Each family has skeletons in the closet, but I try to see over that, and focus on my close relationships, and keep those rituals going. That's a heritage to me as well. I asked my grandmother what is heritage to her, and she said that the stories passed down from generation to generation. From her mother's time, to her time, to my mother's. "That will never die" she said.  But they do, because we forget, and that's what I wanted to show in my picture.  Those stories are like a dream figure of my ancestors that's always a little too far to reach. It's like I know the taste, but not the recipe, the melody but not the lyrics. Do you know what I mean? 
Even though cultures clash and our identity changes based on where we've adapted, who has influenced us and who we've become, I still feel like I will die as my mother's daughter, and my ancestors' child. I wish to leave my children a heritage." 

Ha Huy Anh Pham preparing food

Daria Oprean preparing food