Pour la version française de cette publication – CLIQUEZ ICI
Whenever I return to a place I’ve not been for some time, a narrative gets triggered by an inner voice which builds gradually as I approach destination.
This inner voice doesn’t talk in a standard way because I am the only listener. Sometimes it is simply a spider-thin string spun out of the sights, sounds, smells, textures hiding unseen around me. Suddenly, there they all are. And what was merely a map comes to life.
The collection of these items takes time. Generally, it’s when my hand is already writing all this down that I notice the pen or pencil moving across the page.
Jotting things down helps the tuning-in process. The result is a list of sorts, the ingredients for the storyboard of a home-movie. Something intimate and artisanal, but not completely private, because its contents are also perceptible to others. Contents may be too big a word for it – scraps may be more appropriate. The scraps get saved, and some also get reshaped a little until they’re ready to share.
Here’s an example. This could be the start of a scrapbook.
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