With clear, blocky handwriting and dogged intentionality, Molly Kelley unfolds her chronicle over the pages of her book so that the passage of time is carefully orchestrated: there are drawings, collages, certificates, and posters; artifacts rescued from a hike; diary entries recording special dinners with Aunt Jessie; even a fragment from a broken shovel. Today, eighty years later, the ghosted impressions of cloth tape (cellophane tape wouldn’t be invented for another year or so) add an additional layer of withered beauty to these pages, once carefully composed, with limited means, by a thoughtful young diarist.
10.01.09 Comments (1)
It is fascinating to ponder whether Kelley, and any other scrapbookist in Helfand's collection, ever imagined their scrapbooks being viewed by an audience larger than themselves or their families. With the anticipation of a larger audience, I suspect these scrapbooks would have taken on an entirely different form; perhaps a less authentic, yet more polished form.
posted on 10.01.09 by