Another guest post from BCC’s friend S.P. Bailey.
The sight of my sister’s pink tackle box full of scissors–each pair cuts its own little pattern–should not bother me so much. Neither should the stencils or stamps or embossing sets or endless leaves of whimsical stationary. But these things do bother me. A lot.
I wonder if you can help me sort out why. I like folk art. But I guess I would like folk art somewhat less if someone convinced me that scrap-books are the patchwork quilts of today. And I like looking at loved-ones’ snap shots and their most meaningful ephemera–personally significant old news clippings, playbills, etc. Yet the scrap booking I have seen somehow takes the joy out of the scraps. It seems to elevate adornment over substance at every turn. And the prevailing aesthetic of said adornment is not my cup of herbal tea.
Perhaps most obnoxious to me, however, is the sense I get that at least some people think scrap booking is roughly synonymous with doing family history. Of course, snap shots and ephemera may form an integral part of one’s family history. However, without a text that ties pictures and clippings to a narrative, the significance of these things will be lost on future generations. And by “text” and “narrative,” I do not mean cutesy bubble-letter captions stenciled, stamped, embossed, or snipped and glued on colorful stationary.