date >> 20240826
listening to >> where daemons abide - masayoshi soken (ffxiv ost)
My memory is notoriously awful. Like, incredibly so. If you ask me to recall something that was just said to me seconds ago, expect me to stare at you in dumbfounded silence. I have come up with many a method of remembering things that I need to do, but what about memories of things in passing that were said, done, witnessed, so on and so forth? You can easily keep a journal for that - I do the same, but recently I found that I have been only turning to journaling when I really need to get an extreme emotion out, whether it be positive or negative. I also found that writing helps me clear my mind when I'm feeling particularly overwhelmed with information (something something covered in blood and "i just need to make a list").
That said, it wasn't until recently that I found that my art counts among the memory-keeping, too. It seems really obvious in hindsight, if you look at someone's artwork as a kind of record of their life as well. Just look at how people treat Van Gogh's work, or how a portion of Picasso's life was referred to as the "Blue Period". In my particular case, my artwork shows my history too - more specifically, the pieces of media that I have been into at the time.
It's no secret to the people around me that I have been heavily involved in fandom spaces in the past, and the way I would contribute to the fandom was through my art and writing (but I'm not linking any of THAT). However, I had never truly considered how much it can act as an unintentional memory-keeping practice until I was going through my old art account on Twitter while I was putting my sketchbook pages together.
I'm still not going to elaborate on what fandom I was in exactly - whether out of shame on my part, the constant fear of being ridiculed ever present in my mind, or something else, I dont't know - but honestly, if you were even mildly active on Twitter, especially on summer 2020, you'll probably know what it is (one character design is kind of a dead giveaway anyways). But I digress: when I was looking at the art pieces I had made and posted there at the time, I remembered so many things that were tied to that art piece, whether it was a thing I had watched with thousands of other people, a conversation I had with a friend, etc. I was looking at the drawings I made and would laugh to myself and go, "Oh my god, I remember that!" It was like I was looking at an album of photos someone had taken, but instead the photos were actual pieces of art that I've done and shared with others.
I think that's why, in the end, I couldn't bring myself to delete that account, despite all of the shitty (I'm putting that REAL lightly) things that had happened in the end. There were so many memories made at that time when the world was going to absolute shit outside - of course, not all were positive, but the positive is what I recall first when I look at my art that I made at that time period. In some sort of terrible and sentimental way, that art account is a piece of my history. It makes me think and wonder and hope that the people I met there and the friends that I made along the way are all doing okay, even though we're no longer communicating with each other. In the end, they were the ones that mattered, and not the things we were watching together.
Did this become a "maybe the [x] was the friends we made along the way" kind of rambling? Yes, yes it did. But am I wrong? No, I don't think I am. Not in the slightest. But anyway. If you're an artist, or you're wanting to be one (jokes on you, you are already one if you're starting your art journey no matter what your skill level is, get GOT), don't throw away your sketchbooks. It's tantamount to throwing away a photo album. And as a personal reminder to myself, maybe don't deactivate that account just yet.
(also when I logged back in and saw that I had a DM that was probably waiting for me since forever and I saw who the sender was, I literally yelled out "NOOOOO WAYYY I'M OPENING THAT MESSAGE" LMAOOOOO)