Sunday, 24 January 2010

An illusion of tomorrow

This Pirandello quote is a nice way to frame the letter writing exercise:

"I’m only asking you to try and find out if you really see yourself now in the same way that you saw yourself in the past, with all the illusions you had then, with everything inside and outside yourself as it seemed then – and not only seemed, but really was! Well then look back on those allusions, those ideas that you don’t have any more, on all those things that no longer seem the same to you. Don’t you feel that not only this stage is falling away from under your feet but so is the earth itself, and that all these realities of today are going to seem tomorrow as if they had been an illusion? I only want to make you see that if we have no other reality outside our own illusion, perhaps you ought to distrust your own sense of reality, whatever you touch and believe in and that seems real for you today, is going to be – like the reality of yesterday – an illusion tomorrow."

Friday, 22 January 2010

Shit Souvenir

We stayed too long, they were closing the gates. I had to make a dash for the gift shop. Supermarket Sweep.
I have a strange love of souvenir gift shops. In the Tate Modern you can buy a miniature model...of the Tate Modern. You can hold it in your hand. "look, I went here, the Tate Modern. Here, hold it in your hand".

"To collect photographs is to collect the world...miniatures of reality that anyone can acquire"
-Susan Sontag

There was, sadly, no model of this place. I roamed around looking for anything that stood out. I ended up buying a 'heroic Knight's Dirk' from a collection of 'British Made Role Play Toys' made by Tyme Again LTD - a company that, according to their website sell 'make believe and historic adventures'.

Shit souvenir. Make another trip, find better memories.

A trip #1

Plan a trip. Follow Old Steps. Much bigger now of course. The feet in the shoes from the old step step step
Step out of the car to

Croeso I Sain Ffagan amgueddfa Werin Cymru

The Museum of Welsh Life: a regular sunday walk. I remember hating it. Missing the TV, the inside air. Today is cold and fresh.

I never realised the peculiarity of this place: old houses, dug up and transported. Here. A village of stolen houses. From different times. Strange photo album. A church from St. Teilo's, and here, a windmill from Ryd-Y-Car. Here are 5 houses from Merthyr Tydfill: 1890's, 1930's, 1960's, 1980's. All on one street. Terraced housing: gardens next to eachother, weeds overlapping.

Not what I expected. No mourning, no ghosts. Just curiosity. A culture I just sort of...bypassed. Words I can't get my tongue round. Strange little town, recycled houses.

Wednesday, 20 January 2010


Writing a letter to myself... but not myself. Who knows what I'll be like in 10 years time? I sure as hell don't. I don't even have a clue what I'll be doing in 3 years. I quite like that. Right now I feel like I will be exactly the same, because I don't really see what I would change. Maybe lose some weight. Maybe smoke less, work more and of course stay in touch with everyone. But I also know that's definitely not going to be the case. I'll know so many new people by then. I'll have lost contact with some of the people I see the most now. Essentially my entire world will be different. So of course I'll be different. I'll still be me, I'll just be dealing with those new circumstances. So I may be completely different, but be the same person.
Is that actually possible?
Well it has to be, otherwise there would be far too many people to deal with in life. Facebook would be ridiculous.
If I read a diary I kept when I was younger I find it completely mortifying. I utterly disgust myself. Which is why I don't read them. That's the difference between this letter and a diary, a diary is literally just being written for the sake of it, it's theraputic, it's arty, it's just good to vent. It's not written for anyone. Not even me later. This letter was for me later, but writing it I knew I'd probably find my 20 year old self somewhat heinous. Or maybe I've peaked. Maybe this is me. I feel like me. 14-year-old-diary-writing-me didn't feel so much like me. Maybe 30 year old Rachel will read that letter and be proud of 20 year old Rachel. Remember 20 year old Rachel. Maybe even like her!
Have to wait and see...

Monday, 18 January 2010

Deep Mapping

Searching through my email's today I found an old image I made from my last project 'You Were A Giant Once' in response to a deep-mapping exercise from Dolores Wilber. I'm not sure I like the image that much, its a bit too brazen. But hey-ho.