Thinking about the objects on my shelves, I am struck by the memory of the spaces inbetween. The objects I see are the survivors from a long time. They had specific places and contexts in earlier years, and some have had many different places and several different owners. There are a few pieces specifically chosen for these shelves but the majority are from other times and places. Some are significant items with their own dignity and value and some are insignificant items that gain gravitas by being placed on the shelves such as this piece of broken glass with an extraordinary patina and irridesence, picked up at low tide in front of Tate Modern. They all bring with them echos, and trigger memories of faces and voices that have gone but float about like wisps of smoke.
Regret is not on the agenda. I am here now, I can see where I have been and I am now on my way to somewhere else...
The things on my shelves will reflect that.
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