paperography

What's the difference between a piece of paper and a photograph? We don't often look beyond the literal reading of it and see it for the rest of it's contents. Sometimes we have no choice.


















I'm a collector. Not surprising, given my interest in photography. It was born out of the desire to collect. To keep a physical, tangible (or digital) file of moments, people, places... memories. Storing, sorting and selectively archiving the past.

My collections are not specific or interesting or even obvious. I guess I'm more of a hoarder. But 'collector' implies interesting, 'hoarder' implies Today Tonight. I just keep stuff.

I don't even know if I like stuff. It builds up and adds unorganised chaos to my life. But I'm attached. It's excess baggage in literal, tangible, ugly, cluttery form. But all of us (except for a handful of monks), are incredibly attached. It is not easy to let go. Letting go is one of life's greatest sufferings.

A lot of my stuff is paper. Last year, after studying Artists Books as a Printmaking elective, I began to see paper differently. It was no longer just a means to an end. I had no idea how complex paper in and of itself as a medium could be. Soon enough I fell in love with it. It's one of the most common materials we encounter in daily western life, and well suited my interests in information storage, transmission and recording. Once I started reading beyond the words on the paper, I realised I now read paper like I read photos. Paper is tangible. It indicates context. It inspires memories. And evokes emotion. The lines were blurred, and I found my new form of expression: paperography.

During a particularly rampant junk exorcism last year, I encountered a lot of paperwork. I was determined to get rid of it all. Clean and sharp cuts. As if it were that simple! I started flicking through the pages. Old emails, notebooks, sketchbooks, diaries & documents... most were from an ugly era, which I really wanted to loose, Lacuna Inc style. Perhaps that's why I have such a terribly bad memory. I've trained myself to erase things before they even get a chance to become the past/memories. How ironic that my primary interests lie in the documentation of life in order to keep it. Or maybe I'm just a control freak.

The documents I encountered were powerful catalysts. I was instantly brought back - the locations, emotions, events and even atmosphere suffocated me. The me of now wasn't impressed with this unexpected blast from the past. But anything that can invoke such powerful emotion must be important. Throwing it all in the recycling pile wasn't enough. I needed to transform these catalysts into something new, recycle it myself. The actual physical manipulation served my diy self-help needs... and this is the result.

I feel good about it. It worked. Because now I love it.



Where does it go from here?

Now that I have a resolved and complete product, I have decided to go with the diy/zine/underground distribution style. I'm setting up a store on etsy, I'll go buy then rewatch the first series of Not Quite Art to get some ideas, and I'll sell them in independant bookstores around Melbourne such as Polyester. Maybe I'll even try to get it in some libraries around town.


Previously...
This video is the powerpoint presentation I showed last year when I started this project.