OH MY GOSH I LOVE PAPER.

It only dawned on me the other day, "Paper? What? Since when?" I then proceeded to run all over town to find the coolest and/or raddest paper i could possibly print on. I found this little store tucked away in Civic. I bought Vellum, Italian Water Paper (that's what the label said! Racists.) and Crinkly Water paper, the kind that always looks like it's moving with the most amazing texture. I flew home, raced towards dad's Canon inkjet printer that does not get the work out it should, and proceeded to learn all about what you should and shouldn't put through your dad's printer. I tried the Vellum first and was pleasantly surprised when 70% of the photographs came out relatively normal. For some strange reason the black did not want to co-operate with me at all so some of those tones don't sit quite right. The moving water paper went next and the texture played with the nozzles some so i ended up with a few baby black flicks on edges of the borders. You can practically touch my blue dress the texture is so fantastic. The Italian paper went next and i almost cried it was so perfect. I just love paper. I chose to print out the distance photograph with the boy walking away. It made the photo almost dream like with soft grass enveloping this bold figure in the middle. 


I then considered how i was going to put all these photos together, box or binding? The great dilemma! I went digging through every store in Canberra that even slightly mentioned second hand and came up with nothing. Some things were too loved and trashed, others too plastic and casually discarded. My last option was Revolve on Mugga Mugga Lane. That place is a graveyard for old bikes without chains, bed heads that don't even squeak any more, books with dog-eared pages, tools that have lost their new shine and random objects practically electrified with vague memories of the past. You know when you're walking through a supermarket and you know you're looking for something in particular but until you see it you have no idea? That's exactly how i felt when i found a much loved violin case. I suppose this makes complete sense to me, this case carried around an instrument that someone held passion for, whether it was love or hate is beside the point. These memories to me are items i can touch and hold much passion for. They were turning points,  sad realisations, moments of immense love and exquisite pain. That's what life is, a collection of moments. I started stacking all these things that reminded me of these different times into the case and came to the conclusion it was a mess and was neither non linear or linear, it was a slew of paper, vellum and dead rosebuds. I created individual piles for the photographs and then bound them like little parcels with brown string. They're touchable memories that other people can make sense of instead of just me. 
I'm sorry this is so long but it feels like a really long time since i've had a solid idea worth talking about, this is what getting back on the wagon looks like.