Tiny photos and Secrets
Tiny photos and Secrets
In praise of scrapbooking.
Perhaps this letter should be about Halloween. It’s not. I meant to send this a few days ago but the children are on holiday and I’ve not had much time to think or write. Maybe I’ll write about Halloween next week or maybe I’ll just keep it simple and say, here, that I’ve grown quite fond of Halloween (even though I don’t enjoy being scared and feel uncomfortable around some of the more guesome decorations…). I know not everyone likes Halloween and that, for some, it feels incompatible with faith to engage with the conventional celebrations. I understand that and I think it’s ok for us to have different opinions. For me, though, anything that gives me an opportunity to open the door to neighbours and share a sweet moment is A Good Thing. As Phoebe said over dinner last night, “Halloween brings people together… and also it’s nice that people can enjoy getting dressed up without thinking about if they look ‘nice’”. So Happy Halloween to all who feel comfortable hearing that. And Happy All Soul’s Eve to all who don’t. May we be open to finding new meaning in today and may none of us be afraid of death.
It’s been three months, now, since the image of a scrapbook came to me while I was swinging on a rope swing with only the trees and the birds as company. Mostly that image felt like an answer to my wonderings about how I could begin writing another book (I didn’t need to take it so seriously, it was allowed to be scrappy) but it also felt important that I actually make a real life scrapbook of our family’s journey through a cycle of seasons.
I bought my scrapbook months ago but, because it is beautiful and I have a problem where the prettier the notebook the harder I find it to actually begin using it, I’ve been procrastinating. We’ve been collecting bits and pieces to stick in but it took a cold Sunday afternoon with no plans for us to actually get the scissors and glue and make a start. And it really was “us” making a start - all four of us, heads together, snipping and sticking and writing little notes.
This togetherness completely thrilled me. As the children get older, finding indoor activities that occupy all of us and don’t involve a screen feels increasingly difficult. Maybe it won’t last but, for now, scrapbooking is a shared hobby - it’s our scrapbook and we’re making it together. It’s good for me to remember how important this togetherness is because I have a horrible habit of being perfectionistic and, if I’m completely honest, a bit controlling when we embark on family projects (wait until I write to you about decorating Christmas trees…). Making togetherness the goal helps to interrupt my usual impulse to pursue a particular “vision” for what we’re creating. It reminds me that it’s the process that’s what’s really important, not the final result (most of me believes this but 10% would still like it to look pretty in the end).
One thing that we all seem to be enjoying is the mini photo printer I bought at the same time as the scrapbook. It was an investment purchase but well worth the price since it allows me to easily print tiny, perfect-for-a-scrapbook, photos direct from our phones. The photo paper cartridges are loaded with ink and each printing has four phases, one for the application of each of the three primary colours and a clear coat to enhance and protect the image. In between these phases the photo is visible first yellow then red, then in its final colour. Watching it is mesmerising. “What is this that I’m seeing?!” Henry said wide eyed, when he first saw it print.
It’s always been a special thing to hold a photo in your hands; in these digital days, perhaps it’s more precious than ever. Holding a single photo in your hand asks you to look differently: to pay attention, to notice, to linger in your looking. I love that this scrapbook is creating an opportunity for us to do that. Henry and Phoebe are writing captions for each of the photos we stick in and seeing tiny pictures of our life next to their handwriting is bringing me more joy than I could have anticipated. It makes me realise how nourishing it is to review, reflect and collate - how important it is to take time to remember. It’s also made me consider again how much we’re formed through what we remember and how we’re not entirely passive in that formation. Remembering isn’t something that simply happens to us; we can partner with life in our own memory formation through what we decide we want to focus our attention on.
Our shared human desire to review, reflect, collate and remember is partly why social media makes sense to me. It feels increasingly controversial to say so but I still really like social media, especially when it’s used in the old fashioned way as a highlight reel (see the poem by David Gate below). I truly enjoy seeing glimpses of people’s lives, especially those I know, either in real life or through friendships formed online. I love to see what people value, what they are enjoying, what and who is meaningful for them. What I don’t like is the way social media encourages us to move quickly through these moments, mindlessly scrolling without pausing to really notice what’s being shown, let alone reflect on the intention behind it. The sheer volume of available posts seems to strip individual moments of meaning, turning them into commodities to be shared as currency to get likes.
I’ve often wondered what a slower social media that didn’t encourage consumption would look like. I have ideas but so far have found no clear answer (Substack is definitely a step in that direction but I’m not convinced it’s THE answer). I am, though, starting to wonder whether scrapbooking or old fashioned, stick-in photo albums might be a tonic for those who are weary of the ways of remembering offered to us by social media. Scrapbooks can be shared but not easily which means they take time to make and won’t earn you much (if any) external praise. To make a scrapbook you have to believe that your life is worthy of attention, your attention, whether or not a single other person in the world thinks there’s any worth in it. Scrapbooking is a waste of time in the best possible way, returning to you the intrinsic value of your life, beyond and beneath any external value you or anyone else might want to put on it. When you scrapbook you affirm that your life is worthy of attention simply because it’s your life and the more that you attend to it the more you will believe it.