Not much survived the move from New York to Gent.
I am not sure how I chose which memories to keep, which to throw away. But right now I wonder what the use is of much of what i kept. “Use” probably the wrong word. What I mean is that looking back is seldom constructive for me. Either it is beating my self up, self-pity, or viewing with a revisionist eye. Maybe photography is the worst invention ever!
I used to think it was important...
But it reminds me of why i choose not to make objects anymore.
and every time i think of making analog stuff (which happens often) i decice (every time) that the only form that is worthy of survival, is the book.
Most likely because it is compact and not what it seems but always hiding something. it is easily categorizable and compact but can contain whole worlds. very compatible with my thinking about digital media as well.
i think, i hate being sentimental now, i hate looking back. do all people of my age hate it too or do many more people of 33 embrace the past and love feeling sentimental. i wonder why keep superfluous mementos. I want to bind everything.
but why make anything, why believe in “Now” when one day i will do nothing but throw eggs at it?
Throwing out notebooks, I keep some pages as evidence. OF what? I sometimes feel like I don’t have the right to throw out my old thoughts. Like the me then would hate the thought of me now not caring... after all i am the only one meant to read them.
I NEED A RELIQUARY!
is that what this is? hmmm? WikiPedia:reliquary
how am i supposed to clean up my workspace when i have all these memento-moris around? shells and stones and my one missing tooth in a leather box from italy. a photo of an ancestor, tarot cards, an hourglass, and an ivory buddha in an inkstone case. a cassette tape of gamelon, horsehair brushes, satin hands sewn on crepe. a glass ball filled with fortunes. i love you scrawled on paper and a photo from 1995.