Short-Form Memories
Michael Higgins is a video artist whose work explores memory, nostalgia, and loss through short-form loops that merge glitch, projection, and autobiographical fragments.
His practice is rooted in intuition — collecting footage without always knowing why, and returning to it later to uncover meaning. Often working with simple objects and familiar environments, Higgins transforms the ordinary into something deeply personal, revealing how even fleeting moments can hold lasting emotional weight.
We The Cool: How would you describe yourself and your discipline?
Michael Higgins: I am an unusually retrospective person. I have a preoccupation with the past.
My discipline is primarily in video art. I utilize elements of glitch videography, projection mapping and autobiographical details to form short video loops.
We The Cool: Did you always know that you wanted to be an artist, a memory collector?
Michael Higgins: Not at all. I had long believed art was only a vocation to the wealthy. It wasn't until summer of 2023 that I awoke with this new determination to be an artist. Ever since then it has remained my singular focus - experimenting, filming, and pushing what I'm capable of.
I feel that I wasted a lot of my twenties. Now I make up for lost time.
We The Cool: Tell us about your creative process, how do you come up with an idea and how do you execute it?
Michael Higgins: I operate by intuition. I won't understand why I feel an urgency to collect footage, or why I become fixated on a particular concept.
I didn't know why I was so compelled to film my mom on Christmas in 2024. It wasn't until I was projecting footage of her in the stairway of her empty home six months later that it became clear.
WTC: Your work contends with loss and nostalgia. How do you know when a memory is worth revisiting—and when to leave it untouched?
MH: Even the worst moments of my life contained beauty. The greatest love I've ever witnessed was from the arm of a hospice chair. The greatest jokes I've ever heard were told seconds after tragedy. So I don't dismiss a moment or feeling because parts are uncomfortable. I just try to keep sight on which bits gleam.
WTC: Taking nostalgia, memory and loss as the main concepts in your creations, would you share one nostalgic memory or a memory of loss?
MH: The two are completely intertwined in my world. When I was a kid, my grandfather and uncle both managed the same cemetery and they employed most of my relatives. My mom or dad would bring me by to visit my uncles as they worked. My dad and I would play catch out back and pick blackberries like it was just another field. It's a wicked irony that now I walk that same cemetery to visit the graves of my mother, my uncles, my grandparents, my cousins. But it remains that field I grew up playing in.
WTC: How much of yourself do you intentionally reveal?
MH: I try to share more than I'm comfortable in a desire to speak honestly. It's been tricky as I've gained more attention. But when I notice that I'm retreating into abstraction I try to pull myself back a bit. To then create something more explicit, more straightforward.
WTC: We love how you take ordinary objects or surfaces like a balloon, a pumpkin, a simple wall, a tree… Why those objects? How do you choose them?
MH: I find that ubiquitous objects are disarming. They allow for something of a surprise. The texture of an object is also important as I want it made apparent that I'm projecting light onto a surface, that my display took place in the real world.
I'm naturally drawn to elements associated with adolescent play. Birthday parties as a child, carving into trees in a backyard with my cousin. I revisit those settings now in an attempt to mine the same magic.
WTC: You describe your pieces as “short-form memories set to music.” What does music allow you to express that images alone cannot?
MH: Beginning in high school I'd lend stacks of CDs to people that I wanted to experience the same feeling I'd had when listening to certain music. It didn't take long to realize that a song can't be the same to everyone. What I practice now is an evolution of that desire. I'm still trying to pass out music in confidence of what it can trigger.
WTC: What feeling do you hope lingers after someone sees your work?
MH: That there is still so much beauty to find. Especially if you look just right. Even if it's fleeting.
WTC: In this edition of the magazine we talk about going “Back to Basics”. When you hear this idea, what does it mean in relation to your work and process?
MH: That I use old cameras. But "Back to Basics" speaks to my belief that if art is made with actual love that its fidelity is immaterial. That a true intention is more valuable than material resources.
WTC: Tell us a little bit about yourself and your life, any favorite places to eat, gather, drink? What’s a day in your life like?
MH: I'm pretty regimented. I clear chores, I lift weights, and I keep a strict diet. On weekends I hang out with family and friends, see live music and watch a lot of films. I also love to stare into my phone and binge reality TV.}
But more than anything I spend my days dreaming about what I'll make next.