I sometimes hear people say that in 100 years time there will be no evidence of us; blogs, Twitter, emails and digital photos mean we’re not recording our lives in the same way that our forbears did. It’s true that we’re not recording our lives in the same ways as the pioneers did. The days of a quill pen, bottles of ink, and diary are long gone. But many of us *are* leaving a trace of ourselves.
I still write letters to some people and, yes, I use a fountain pen with fabulous coloured inks. I admit they’re not 10 page wonders full of the adventures of living in a new land far away, but they are a record of my hand writing, and the fact that I care enough to put pen to paper.
And of course I scrapbook, as do many thousands of people around the world. I don’t even remember how I started scrapbooking but it’s the perfect hobby for someone who loves to play with scissors and glue! In the early days of scrapbooking becoming popular as a hobby it was quite regimented in a sense, with very strong emphasis on preservation and archival materials. A lot of people still scrap that way, and they are leaving an amazing legacy behind. Most of my scrapping is still safe enough but I also do more art journal style pages now, where the photos are copies and I don’t care how long the page lasts.
I have no children of my own, so that begs the question – if I am documenting my life, who am I documenting it for? I used to think I knew the answer to that, but not any more. There are a few possibilities that occur to me. Some relative might want the scrapbooks as a reminder of our family. Maybe. I might adopt a child in my 50s and they will want the scrapbooks. Um, not happening. Or some poor soul will have to dispense with them when I die, just like I had to deal with my Aunt’s teaspoons. Likely scenario.
So why do I keep scrapping? For the love of it. I love the colours, the papers, the artistry, the freedom to get my thoughts down in a permanent form, the chance to tell people how I feel about having them in my life. In the end, it doesn’t really matter what happens to my scrapbooks, what matters is that creating them enriches my life.
For the record, the photos are not great – light fell across the pages, the camera wasn’t straight on so I had to crop them funny, etc. In real life, the photos are straight, the edges square etc. Oh well…