18 Jul The World on My Desk
May I introduce you to one of the loves of my life: my desk.
My desk is a little window into what the inner workings of my brain may look like: the books I have stored up in my memory, the textures and shapes that inspire me, the colours that soothe me, the knick knacks that help me daydream and create worlds within worlds.
It has become a kind of altar to all that I worship: shells, books, plants, dried stems, old bits of metal, stacks of textured paper, crystals, pebbles, notebooks in all shapes and sizes, warped glass and old rusty tobacco tins. Little scenarios with knick knacks and nature finds to create safe havens for my mind.
I rarely allow myself the time I need to spend there, but when I do, it feels restorative. It is where I can retreat into my world which feels deeply connected to my childhood imagination and play. I have all my tools around me and all the magical pieces that help me feel safe, yet somehow free. It represents the two channels, drawing and writing, that have helped me make sense of the world from the moment I picked up a pencil.
One of my intentions for this year was to write more and so far I have managed to pick up the words again by telling my life story so far on this blog (I must confess, I have always detested the word blog, shall we agree to call it an online diary?).
Another way I’ve managed to do this is by starting a diary for the first time in years. It is an old notebook from WWII which the previous owner has written on the front in pencil:
D.S.P Record Book 8/1/1942
The first page includes a keycode for the notes that would be made, but none ever were.
I hold the fantasy that I will one day rise at 6am, go for a run through the hills and return to write at my desk. But the reality is I have a knee injury, am generally too tired to rise early after working late into the night and my writing happens in fits and bursts. But that’s ok, because this is what works for now. One day I’ll make it to the desk at dawn light.