I haven’t gotten anything together to post for a visual today; I am going to write. I don’t think that this space is much read or viewed. This gives me an open mic to explain.
I don’t like the idea of scrapbooking. It invokes images of set up situations to “remember precious moments.” I am going to add here that I don’t like Precious Moments either. There is a similar script: savior joys of childhood and innocence and love. Cataloguing events of minor importance, but very rarely saying anything. There is no intellectual strife, motif, or resolution. It is not art.
It can be art, in some hands. However, by and large, it is an extension of those boring albums that your family gets out. It is not the pretty picture, but the dark memory that lurks that pushes our lives.
Far and wide it is pakaged happiness, real or invented. Which brings me to this: there are some people that I don’t want to remember.
I will keep going, because I like the puzzle pieces, but, this idea that you can live these happy lives is nothing that I understand.