My scene takes half of memory of 8GB graphic card, so the graphic card should render it very well (with 5 GB of memory not used). But when I’m trying to render such scenes with 8GB GTX 1080 I still recieve this CUDA out of memory message. Usually my Blender scenes takes around 3 GB of memory. So I decided to buy new one, with 8GB of memory. Previously I used my old NVIDIA GTX970 and often it’s 4GB memory wasn’t enough for my large scenes, so I runed out of memory. Everybody knows this problem very well, but here’s the thing: There’s this sense of transporting backwards and surpassing the mental barrier of ‘today’ and ‘this morning.’ You always go back.I have problem with my new NVIDIA GTX1080 8GB (MSI) while rendering, because of CUDA error: Out of memory.

When you think of a happy or sad memory, your brain remembers the physical feeling of that time. However, in a more intuitive sense, it relates to the philosophy of time not being linear. In terms of forming complicated attachments to physical interiors/exteriors, it relates to memorializing and honoring a singular space through stillness. The relationship between time and place is inherently woven with each careful stitch.

His personal history becomes a shared public experience, inviting guests into the not-quite-solid abodes lingering in his mind. In an attempt to domesticate the memory, Suh crystalizes the points in time in which the space existed, exists in the present, and will exist in the future. It begs the question if the memories that they allude to are as prone to tearing as the artwork itself. The gossamer buildings become monuments to nostalgia. The constructions of fabric projected in front of the audience mimics a room or home one could easily step into, yet remains delicate in material. The installations retain their sharp angles and imposed rigidity, yet they reconcile with the natural gravity of fabric, susceptible to ripples and curling. When stepping back, the texture nearly vanishes and viewers are left with the presence of smooth translucent structures. The fine texture of the fabric is tightly stitched together in grids. Its timelessness and fortification of safety and security wherever you go is evident as visual line weight is reinforced by the varied thicknesses of the seams throughout the structures. The precision and attention to detail in Suh’s works are akin to 3D architectural blueprints displayed before the viewer. These projects are tangible, anatomical constructions built on invisible yet familiar experiences. He constructs life-sized immersive installations composed of colorful polyester fabric to replicate physical spaces that are of personal emotional significance. Suh works to document a personal mythology built on the framework of memory and domestic spaces. The structures consent to be looked at, but they look at you too. In that sense Seoul-born artist Do Ho Suh’s work confronts you with the knowingness and willingness to be perceived. Had the room been made of translucent fabric and wiry threads, that wouldn’t have been possible. It was solitude, but more importantly it was a way to observe without being observed in return. I would sit on the steps, knees to my chest, and listen intently to the muffled voices of the churchgoers next door.

I would sneak away to be in the stairwell, a tall rectangular room with carpeted blue floors.

Translucent fabric house memory