I’ve kept diaries since I was 12 and for some time now I’ve been trying to gather them all. Some are definitely missing: some might have been gifted, some might have gotten lost and some I’ve destroyed. Anyway, for therapeutically reasons and to help guide what I’m working with now (in terms of image-making), I’ve been going through them, trying to find clues, patterns, ideas, etc. It’s been intense – to say the least. Because I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to write about what has been found in those archives, I’ll start to share some photographs I’ve taken of some of them. I find it curious that there’s some sense of recognition in this visual universe and am expecting the feelings that are being propelled by this journey will somehow influence the images I’m creating, though for now it is still… how can I say it?… too dammed fucked up to make sense of.
I’ve counted 30 diaries so far. They have different formats, yet all could be seen as books. They are a record of daily notes, feelings, references, experiences, events, sketches, classes, photographs, etc. Some were notebooks I bought, some were offered to me, some are recycled or found books and some are handmade. Nagika, one of my dogs, has managed to shred two covers so far. Cats and snails have also left their mark (am sure rats and moths have had their feast as well). Will I make a bigger effort to preserve them? I’ll see in a few months. I’m contemplating moving houses again, so we’ll see how much of a burden this all turns out to be.