The most tender place in my heart
belongs to strangers.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Trial 01. [concept development]
A present for my dad's birthday.
I got paint on his nice hat. That's his burden. No, it really did bother him.
Box as drawer.
Burden in box.
Flip side as interpretation.
Naming collections 'albums'.
This was my great grandmother's. A collection of old post-cards of which many I didn't get to include, but there was a rather big assortment. The pages are so fragile that I'm worried to turn them.
I was reading the backs, some of the people I never knew. The last name aren't ones I recall. And written exchanges with exceptional cursive.
The aestetic authenticity was quite what I pleasantly expected, but for some reason I was anticipating very romantic and lovely words on their backsides. I was curious to find only updates on family status and wellness. Perhaps I'll find her love letters one day.
The stamps are wonderful! And I how great is that postcards are the same size as photos.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)