Over the last five years I have moved eight times. I've found that I am especially sensitive about moving out of my bedroom. I am a burrower, a home-maker, a cocooner; leaving a bedroom is like leaving a part of my life behind. It is closure and uncertainty and finality and deep breaths.
Last May, as I prepared to move out of my last Milwaukee apartment and into the literal unknown, Katrin was kind enough to spend a week in my bedroom holding my hand as I retold stories, read journals, stared into images, hurt, smiled, shook my wrists, and went on fresh air walks. This time was especially important for both of us because Katrin, two years younger than myself, had signed the lease to move into my apartment when I moved out. She would literally be living in my empty space. It was like a ceremonial passing on or something. It was strange and comforting. As I found myself unable to dismantle my nest, Katrin, whom is also a collector and a documenter, decided to record each object I packed as a sort of manifesto of our room. The process became easier; I felt like we weren't packing away my Milwaukee life but rather recording what had been.
Over the last nine months I have been slowly cleaning up the photos of my artifacts. For the next few days, I am going to be posting a few of the images which will eventually be compiled into a book. Hopefully, in May of 2012, the roles will reverse and I will be able to assist Katrin with her own 1019A book.
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