On my bookshelf there are a number of notebooks, all of them have had their pages torn out so that only the covers remain intact. These hollow shells are the consequence of an unusual habit of mine. For better or worse (probably worse), I destroy everything that I write. I do so because there is some part of me that cannot accept having my ideas so easily accessible to others. Not only that, but the accumulation of those ideas, once written, become a type of history that I am afraid to let exist. As a result, I gave up writing down my thoughts altogether.
The only ideas that I work from are the ones that my memory allows to linger. Memory, unlike writing, is a terrible recording device. I estimate that for every one idea that I am able to remember, three others have been forgotten. There is something to be said though, about those ideas that stay with me, that are caught by my mental net. These ideas, which remain in the porous cradle of brain activity, do so because of their greater importance.
That being said, today I found in my closet some notebooks which had been tucked away in my closet. I am not certain of the notebooks’ age but I suspect that they are no less than two years old. To my surprise there remained a small portion of text in one of these notebooks that read, “Photography requires the unseeing of objects.” The statement struck me because not only does it loosely define the direction that my work has moved in over the last two years but it also reaffirms my position on using memory as a means for editing ideas. Even though I forgot about the notebook, I have kept in my thoughts that sentiment which was written inside.