I’m a college student. I’m an English major. I want to be a journalist. I write for my school paper. I keep a journal. I also blog. I write poetry. I’m making a book as my final in my photo class. I’m studying print culture in another class. …I’m beginning to realize that there are simply a lot of books in my life.
Besides all the print i come into contact with given my area of study, it has appeared in my other area of study as well. Right now, my floor is covered in small note-card-sized pieces of premium luster photo paper. The cats keep scurrying across the hardwood every couple hours, causing me to either laugh or yell and quickly rearrange them.
Arrangement. It’s a huge part of making something in some degree or another. In making a book, there has to be a sequence. No matter what is on the leaves, the grass must be in some coherent fashion. When I first found out I’d be making a book of my photography as my final, it sounded wonderful. Great, I thought, one less final paper I have to churn out. That’ll save me some time. Wrong.
For weeks now, I’ve stared at these tiny pictures. I’ve tried narrowing it down, but the one I want to omit looks great with one I love. Those two can go on a page together. But that one needs this one to precede it. It wouldn’t make sense without that one, either. So… they all have to stay. And I’m back to square one.
All of this is definitely reminding me of all of those classes about semiotics and messages of media. How much of a work depends on the format? Is publishing these photos in a book changing their meaning? What if I change the title? Do I give the reader a back story or should they stand on their own? Are these two images too much together? Why doesn’t this look good? It’s maddening.
At any rate, I’m excited about publishing a book of my work. Awesome.