A BODY OF WORK

At one time “writing” had to make the transition from guys sitting at desks with feathers writing on sheepskins to guys putting tiny letters into frames and rubbing ink on them. Then there were the bindings for the stacks of paper to make “books.” It was expensive, so “publishers” appeared to make copies and sell them. Now they were commodities.

Today’s narratives have abandoned all that and appear electronically on glass screens, maybe images and talking people instead of that print-trick. Though it’s much easier to produce such sequences, there is still the expense of making and then getting them to the public, but we have electronics for that, too. They are just far less permanent.

The bottom line of the idea I’m trying to reach is that one no longer publishes books, but produces what I would call a body of work that might include anything, including ideas, found objects, dance, discussions or lectures, videos, audios — anything that can capture and possibly interpret, transform or create experience. It can last a lifetime because it is about life. Forget the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval or the NYT’s list of best sellers. This stuff flows through everyone all the time. It changes lives.

Sitting and contemplating the idea instead of quickly skipping over what seem obvious may make a difference. I just shipped off to an archive a correspondence in a particular time and place between two specific people, myself and Darrell Robes Kipp. Only a 4-binder part of each of our “body of work” but I insured it for $2,000. The substitute postmaster, a small Asian-looking woman who spoke well, never flinched.

But it was paper. In red binders because I try to color-code my files. I’m praying the truck doesn’t crash. Maybe they aren’t commodities so much as “raw resources” but to me they are heart’s blood. They might mean that to someone else as well.