David Horvitz <hikarusaru@gmail.com>
12/2/12

to Charlotte
very very slight edit:

I have a habit of giving everything I make away. If I make a poster, or a book, or a zine, they all disappear in time. And some things, like postcards, or small prints that fit in envelopes, they are made specifically to be sent to someone, or a lot of people - people I know, or people I don’t know. My friend Sarah says I should keep two of everything I make. I think this must be some standard in the archiving world. But I don’t want to do this. (I think Sarah has started her own archive for me. It’s impossible for her to have everything.) I don’t want to carry around with me the baggage and weight of all this stuff. I don’t want to give myself the responsibility of being the organizer of my own archive. Where would I put everything? When I move, do I carry it with me? There is something nice about an artist’s archive. It is a testament to a practice that took place over a period of time. A commitment. A commitment to creativity, to imagination, to a certain kind of life. But I don’t need to simultaneously be committed, and to hold onto the proof of that commitment. If it all disappears, that is fine. One thing that happens because of this attitude (is this an attitude?) is the possibility of things lost being rediscovered. And that surprise that comes with that. I recently found a book at Printed Matter that was lost under a pile of books. I had completely forgot I made it. Or finding some small print on someone’s refrigerator from the thousands of photographs I used to give out at The Smell when I lived in Los Angeles. Or a poster on someone’s wall in the background of a photograph. I’m not trying to advocate this. I am just explaining myself.

that is it.