Diary 1976

Editor: So, here we have Hedda Sterne's "Diary," from 1976, created on paper. It feels incredibly dense, almost like looking at an aerial view of a lost city, but also, in a strange way, quite calming. What do you make of it? Curator: Lost cities, secret codes, emotional cartography...Yes! It calls to mind not just the record of days, but the feeling of sifting through memories—the significant ones cast in high relief and the rest faded, blurred at the edges. Does that resonate with you at all? Editor: Absolutely, that feeling of faded memories. The geometric grid makes me think of an organised mind trying to categorise experiences. Do you think that the grid helps or hinders her expression? Curator: Oh, that is so interesting! I see the grid more like a permeable structure. It *suggests* order while, in truth, the real story lies in the intricate detail *within* each block of space. Kind of like how we use language – it provides a scaffolding, but our unique voices, and missteps, shape what we communicate. It almost reminds me of ancient calligraphy – a form that itself is a deeply interior record of being in the world. Don't you think? Editor: I see what you mean about the calligraphy; each block does have its own texture. It's much richer and deeper than I first thought! Thanks for this. Curator: My pleasure. Thinking about memory now I’m not sure if you realise you have made a memory of the encounter, and if it can do for one moment what it will do for many others – just the idea that you created the moment, how cool is that. I like this very much and want to share this vision to many many others.