Remnants and Ruins

There is a plastic tub in the top cupboard of my childhood bedroom, labelled “Rose’s Special Treasures”. All my life, I have kept things. Things that aren’t worth anything to anyone other than me, and things that have nothing to do with being materialistic. Gold plated and silver bangles growing in size, my first pair of converse, a newspaper cutout of the lyrics to “Leaps and Bounds” by Paul Kelly. It’s this seemingly random paraphernalia that makes up a life.

What are we without the things that become a part of us?

I am the little star that hangs from my helix piercing and the moleskine journals that I write in. I’m an Olympus Pen PL-7 DSLR camera and Peter Rabbit stickers and the cheap MCo Beauty lip stain I put on on my way to work. 

Now, I will not keep all of these things. The journals can stay, the makeup will expire (or, more likely, be lost to a night out or a bus between here and Te Aro). This is why I adore documentation. For my own personal archives, and for the histories of those I love. 

I take photos and I write in an attempt not to forget. What remains documented is not yet lost. I can look back on the diary entries written by my fourteen-year-old self and remember what I ate, what I wore, what I thought. It may seem self-indulgent, but I think she deserves to be honoured. 

I carry her with me, through memories and photos and written words even though I’ve left behind her high-waisted skinny jeans.
What I’m trying to say is, there is more to taking photos and writing than the initial act itself. What we choose to capture and keep is special to us; it makes us who we are and who we have chosen to become. It’s important for us and sometimes (whether we notice it or not) just as important to those who love us.

The polaroid I took of my pet lamb Terry, a Jack Abselum postcard from Broken Hill and a coaster from a Newcastle bar adorn the walls of my Wellington flat, along with countless other photos, paintings, receipts and tickets. It is ephemera kept alive; the documentation of my life. It helps me look back with gratitude and decide where, and how, to move forward.

The remnants and ruins.

xx Rose