I used to have a personal blog, half diary, half studio log, half letter to those I loved who loved me. It was updated with less and less frequency, until the only posts were my annual year in images (12 for) and the occasional life update, a list of bullet points to place a non-existent reader in the current context of my life.
The website I used to host my images changed their url, and all my image links broke, the blog was filled with empty squares where there used to be whole worlds. And then, my marriage was falling apart, and it started to feel weird and sad to have the past 9 years of our lives splayed out, too easy to jump post to post and connect the dots of our happy relationship. It didn’t seem fair to have that be so easily accessible. So I shut it down, made it private, and let it sit.
I decided instead that I would only have a studio log, a somewhat more valid (in my mind) archive of studio doings and writings and inspirations.
Cataloguing a life is a task I never know how to wrap my mind around. What’s art, what’s worth documenting, what will my future self wish to sift through?
Every time I journal–paper to pen–I find myself flipping back through all the past entries. I re-read and re-read and re-read. Like I can tell myself my own story, build myself out of nothing. I suppose it’s no surprise that I do the same thing on the internet, using the search bar in my own blog to pull things from the depth of my foggy memory, choosing random entries from the dated archive aptly labeled “Time Travel.”
Sharing these things feels trivial sometimes. What’s the point in another voice telling another average story? Why can’t I just be content to make the work, write the words, without sharing them? But then, I use the search bar on my now defunct personal blog, and pull something up from the bottom of the ocean, and I’m so grateful to my former self for taking the time to write about whatever menial thing I’d written about.
So here’s the start of another archive. A brand new diary, where all the circles of everything will overlap and it’s always just for the sake of remembering.