My most ambitious undertaking as a child (age 5-11) was collecting “objects of interest” and depositing them into a heart-shaped tin box, maintained by my co-curator (my twin brother).
There were no concrete criteria to these objects. They included, but were not limited to: a strangely smooth pebble, numerous hematite beads from our mother’s broken necklace, a plastic crystal that probably belonged to a display window, and some mother-of-pearl buttons. Each object carries history—its (no doubt) illustrious existence before our encounter, a history that I would dream up for it, and the childhood memories imbued upon it by our repeated returns to the collection.
The contents of the box are now lost, but the habit of mulling over objects of interest remains. I believe that everything I encounter will inform, again and again, how I interact with future objects, interfaces, and phenomena. This is a notebook-repository of my encounters and the (non)sense I make of them.