A poem, a sentence causes us to be ourselvesRalph Waldo Emerson
I have always loved words, mine and others – and kept a file or notebook of sorts, often several at a time. Words and scribbles, sketches linked to work, none work, feelings, observations, insights, good ideas, chance happenings and observations, comments, media, film-making. Words of others that fascinated, interested, sometimes haunted me.
I decided during Covid 19, Lockdown 1, March 2020 onwards, that I would pull together some of these random musings, poems, writing and ideas from my life almost all from 1976 onwards and so I bought a BLANK hand-made, khadi paper, leather bound journal complete with Celtic embossing to remind me of my Scottish heritage.
I wanted to do more than copy over words and instead become my own book artist and editor, combining words with my new found creative delights.
Apart from a loose subject on the cover of any of my notebooks my collections lacked any obvious principle of organisation: my first job was an audit and edit, what’s to be in this compilation and whats out? It took a few days, post-it notes and photocopying, to turn random, disorganised, piles into more systematic themes
Themes emerged from higgledy-piggledy piles, moving paper around and checking with friends. Its still a casual structure and I didn’t always leave enough free pages as I pulled my first chronicle together.
My next posts will expand the themes.