Four days in (well, I started a day late, so technically three) & I'm enjoying actually having something to think about! Posting a picture every day has got me pondering about what is important to me & what I have surrounding me. Currently, I haven't really left my dining room to take a photo. Since having a jolly good post-Christmas tidy it has become my little safe haven & I like it! I have my laptop & my radio & Eldest has her toys & plenty of space to make mess. I may have mentioned before that I don't really watch TV & so when I lived alone I didn't have one. The man, of course has a gigantic one ("Whheeeyyy!") as men do, which now dominates the living room & so it makes me happy to have my own tranquil room & to be surrounded by things I love.
I wouldn't say I'm shallow or materialistic but I love stuff. Junk, mainly (pretty junk), as well as meaningful objects & I do tend to get quite attached to & sentimental about all my shit. As I was taking a look around I realised that amongst all my stuff-I-love I don't actually have any photographs, except for the four that I keep on the notice board. I have a hard-drive full of photos, of course I do, but I have no framed family shots, nothing like that. Besides the fact that we're just not that kind of family - I don't think we've ever had a photo of us all together, & not through lack of love - I can't see much point in displaying photos of people who are so deeply rooted in my heart & mind & I find no creativity in bland, mass-produced frames bearing posed, fake-smile pictures propped up on mantelpieces & the such. I much prefer my tatty, pin-punctured snaps which sit as comfortably on the notice board as they do in my soul.
Photos, are still important to me & I love nothing more than to look through ancient photos of relatives & remark at the crazy hairstyles & fashion; to see who gave so & so their nose; to be amazed at how much is passed on from generation to generation & inevitably I will look at the stuff that surrounds these people & say "Oh gosh, do you remember that sofa? I bounced on it so much it eventually gave in!" or "You used to love that Teddy, Eldest has it now." & that is why, for me, stuff is important & integral to who I am. Memories are held in the stuff I surround myself with & the possessions of my loved ones & I hope that this will be the same for my children. Every time I look at an ink picture done by my Mum, or a pencil topper made by my Great Aunt & the various other things which I have 'acquired' from them over the years it reminds me of the wonderful innate creativity the women of my family possess. When I visit my Grandfather I see the (horrid) antique porcelain figures sat on his mantelpiece & I am a four year old child again, peering as closely as possible at all the tiny details on the women's dresses & feeling the spiky, delicate ruffles of the men's tunics. This, for me, is precious.
I wouldn't say I'm shallow or materialistic but I love stuff. Junk, mainly (pretty junk), as well as meaningful objects & I do tend to get quite attached to & sentimental about all my shit. As I was taking a look around I realised that amongst all my stuff-I-love I don't actually have any photographs, except for the four that I keep on the notice board. I have a hard-drive full of photos, of course I do, but I have no framed family shots, nothing like that. Besides the fact that we're just not that kind of family - I don't think we've ever had a photo of us all together, & not through lack of love - I can't see much point in displaying photos of people who are so deeply rooted in my heart & mind & I find no creativity in bland, mass-produced frames bearing posed, fake-smile pictures propped up on mantelpieces & the such. I much prefer my tatty, pin-punctured snaps which sit as comfortably on the notice board as they do in my soul.
Photos, are still important to me & I love nothing more than to look through ancient photos of relatives & remark at the crazy hairstyles & fashion; to see who gave so & so their nose; to be amazed at how much is passed on from generation to generation & inevitably I will look at the stuff that surrounds these people & say "Oh gosh, do you remember that sofa? I bounced on it so much it eventually gave in!" or "You used to love that Teddy, Eldest has it now." & that is why, for me, stuff is important & integral to who I am. Memories are held in the stuff I surround myself with & the possessions of my loved ones & I hope that this will be the same for my children. Every time I look at an ink picture done by my Mum, or a pencil topper made by my Great Aunt & the various other things which I have 'acquired' from them over the years it reminds me of the wonderful innate creativity the women of my family possess. When I visit my Grandfather I see the (horrid) antique porcelain figures sat on his mantelpiece & I am a four year old child again, peering as closely as possible at all the tiny details on the women's dresses & feeling the spiky, delicate ruffles of the men's tunics. This, for me, is precious.
Above: Dad & I. I look just like Eldest here. Shame we were at the hunt (not something I approve of)
Below Left: My oldest friend & I at my 6th? Birthday. Below Middle: Eldest & my hand, conkering. Below Right: Mum & I, before the races. Swish.
Oh my word - your 'Eldest' does look like you and she can look back at the photos you have of her now in the same way - lovely!
ReplyDeletefab photos, i too love junk and also take to holing myself up in my current fav place, where ever it may be
ReplyDelete