The Necrophagous Journal

  • I make to-do lists.
  • I make them over and over and over again in my notebook.
  • I note down the most ordinary tasks, small bits of life admin, and the most tedious of chores.
  • I note down big jobs too, with detailed work breakdown, diagrams, and sketches.
  • I note them all down without hierarchy.
  • They are all the same, sitting in the category of “stuff that needs getting done”.
  • The lists help me organise my day and stay afloat, keep up with contacts and digital chores.
  • And I take great pleasure in striking through each item when completed.
  • Yet, the joy lasts a split second only, as so mundane are the tasks that their completion carries no satisfaction beyond that moment.
  • And to simply strikethrough an item on a to-do list with a single line means to still be able to read it when the page of the notebook is revisited – a completedtask just sits there, with its ghost letters still beaming at me from the page, bringing about an uneasy feeling.
  • For that reason, it seemed natural to utterly obliterate and erase for good all the “stuff that got done”.
  • Nature does it all the time.
  • I cover it with ink, I black it out, and I remove it from the page and record.
  • That mundane “done stuff” never earned a long-term place in my mind and memory anyway.
  • And in this annihilation of the past, the practice of crossing out completed tasks turns into a game of drawing.
  • Out of dead traces of old tasks, new life grows. New shapes conceal the outlines of words; establish their own relationships and compositions.
  • Black clouds move across the pages, and blocky shapes are stacked like bricks; black bulbs, connected by thin vines, organically spreading over paper.
  • Thin lines take their time to fill in a shape (one shape at a time), thick lines do it quickly (master plans of city blocks emerge).
  • Nervous thin lines disrupt the thick black monoliths. X’s and crosses graciously fly in between, carrying messages.
  • Necrophagous insect-like shapes emerge from corpses of completed tasks, black amoebas surround the tasks that are still to be done, until they are done, and then are blacked out, devoured, feeding the new ecology of oblivion.
  • On these pages, new (life) forms have gained ground, forming a whole new thriving biome on the carcass of repetitive daily drudgery.