45 minutes of writing. Is it a better day? Working through recent findings today. Experimenting with a method. A, the, my method of introspective writing. That hasn’t changed. Since 1996 I’ve been keeping diaries. Later came other texts, artistic texts. Poems, scripts, articles, and essays. Then video and audio recordings followed. All of it with a strong tone of self-reflection.

The audio diaries make up a large part of my archive. Everything, or at least a great deal, from my life is there. Described from the situation. Sometimes difficult situations. And going back to the memories. Descriptions of a past, my past. For a long time those were memories of pain and suffering. Guilt and shame.

Writing with my fountain pen in the notebooks. Self-made notebooks. The foundation of the process. Editing, assembling into collages comes next. This too has become familiar over the years. Bringing together all those different layers and media is my usual approach.

The sharing, the way of sharing, and the change that comes from it. The emergence of an open, personal archive in cross-media artistic collages. The collages as layers for new work. Editing to allow a certain distinctiveness to arise. Of course, sharing feels somewhat strange. There’s discomfort in it. Maybe even fear. The texts, the words, that emerge between things, in motion and at the margins of making. Something shifts there, nothing big, but just enough for a turning point to arise. Bringing together the layers. Sometimes as a counterpoint. Originally not meant for others. Now nonetheless visible as part of the whole.