Recap
A year ago a friend of mine, through the sheer power of unenthusiastic suggestion, convinced me to write some things here.
The idea was to attempt a certain honesty about a project that is important to me: my own house, my first house. It seemed essential (or at least productive, if that’s essential) to have a space to promote a truthfulness that is hardly possible when writing for an audience. Also: the unnecessary justification of working in fragments of images and text, which in another context would be dismissed as po-mo or collagist.
So this here tumblr has tried (is trying) to address how one might think about work through the problem at hand: living. In general there is an idea that any project should attempt to desaturate its context of any noise, mistakes, inessential peripheral or tangential thoughts. That reasoning is faulty. The work is the noisy mistake. Without tangential thought there is no thinking.
What is contained herein are these micro-events of living that constitute life as a labor of love. Its an attempt to establish the problem of the house as a consequence of these events, rather than imagining that it could be designed to provoke them. There are no guarantees, only efforts and exertions.
Its a very selfish endeavor, but apologizing for that would be disingenuous. See: the honesty has already begun. On with the mistakes…
