Why do we document things?

Taking photos and sharing them is an emotionally human thing

I have been exploring the roots of my inclination to visually document.

Lately, there are more photos in my cameras than on my phone. I think it’s because I haven’t logged into social media in several months now. There is no longer a need to have a stockpile of shareable photos on my phone, formatted to look appealing on the app. But there is still the need to capture images. I always appreciate the possibility and creativity available when using a camera. You know, the tool and medium designed especially for, not one thing other than, taking photographs!

Documentation and image-making are innately part of our forever-back-and-forward-in-time existence. You don’t need the internet, or a camera, or even writing to document and share information. Our human ancestors painted visual renderings of stories, memories, perceptions, expressions, and experiences on earth and rock for themselves and others to see again, or imprinted it all into the subtle grooves of their minds by chanting with continued repetition, passing it down personally.

Why? To document is to appreciate the present as it quickly becomes the past, and to transform that appreciation into a mark onto something that can be held and carried into the future, for further appreciation.

We document to preserve information. But we also document to prolong appreciation. How sweet is that?

Taking photographs offers clues into what makes us happy, what we find important, or even what we find to be funny and questionable (like my partner and our kid, who like to take 35mm photographic evidence of human-and-food relationship mysteries such as a lollipop stuffed into a dinner roll with a bite taken out of it. What happened!?)

What is it that we must preserve for memory, and why?

Outside of the social media phone portal, I am feeling how my creative inclination to document still very much exists on its own in a lively and honest way. It’s like second nature. And sharing photos is still abundantly possible and fun. I am glad I have this space here to share some of the documentation, because the gritty, textured, colorful moments in my studio are too enticing for me to keep all to myself.

Scenes from the studio:

Blue-ish rock, three versions of itself.

An experiment with some water-based mineral paints on canvas.

Another photo of making incense paint

Rosey colored rock surprise, found in the Huron River, two ways. As itself, and transformed to dust (still itself but also something new).

Remember all of those surfaces I was talking about preparing? Plant dyed canvas, stretched. Drying.

Pigments and altar items - it’s starting to be hard to tell the difference.

Avocado ink experiments

Some crackled mineral paints made last year still offering a lot of time and presence!

Making paint. This pigment was a gift.

I enjoy sharing little tactile moments from my studio here on my Substack. There are no ads here or shiny buttons to scramble your attention! Just the photos I took and some little words I wrote! How refreshing. Thanks for being here with me. I’ll have some new work this summer as a result of some of these studio moments.

♡ Kristen

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