I must admit, I am nostalgic. Daily I find myself struggling to preserve a hint of what happened yesterday. For some my compulsive behavior maybe dismissed as mere pack rat tendencies, and perhaps their right. I’ve always liked pack rats. Still, I feel my desire goes much deeper. As a youth I was taught that my collections where not valuable or even sanitary. So weekly the contents of my pockets and backpack where emptied into the refuse bin. Even though I fought against the weekly purging I learned from it. Because it forced me to edit my collection. Some of the artefacts (you’ll notice that I am using a variant spelling of the word, I simply have more affinity for this version, that is all) would make it to the next weeks jurying. Some would even make it to the place set aside that was so special they would inevitably become lost. I digress though, So yes I collect, I archive, all with the not so secret motive of saving a portion or glimpse of the world I inhabit.
Currently this compulsive habit has been nurtured by my graduate studies at Virginia Commonwealth University, where I am working generally with the idea and specifically on telling my story of one past world. That world is Vernal, Utah, my hometown.
otherwork