This thought isn’t fully developed and might sound strange (even to me a few minutes from now), but I think that memories—all memories, if we consider them for long enough—each have a color, form and texture.
My brain—and maybe your brain; maybe every brain—really leans into associative thinking. It tries to make lots of connections very quickly. If you told me one of your memories, I suspect that I’d see a color in my mind and could imagine the texture and form of the memory.
One memory might feel like a smooth blue sphere. Another could look and feel just like a misshapen Brillo pad. A third resemble a piece of warm yellow tissue paper—the kind used to wrap gifts—crumpled up, but then smoothed back out (no you’re being too specific).
If you imagine a room filled with endless items in every color and made of any material, I suspect you could think of a memory and pick out exactly (or close enough) the things that feel just like that memory.
Of course, I really like moments and memories, and I like making art, so I’ve also been thinking about how I might represent a memory with a piece of art. Not in a literal sense, but by picking out the color, medium and material that feels right, and then finding the right form.
One of my favorite recent purchases is a Paper Republic journal, in which I’ve added two inserts: a ruled notebook, and a sketchbook. I use the notebook to capture memories and the sketchbook to (attempt to) represent that memory with a piece of art—it’s a strangely joyful act.
When you find the right form for a memory, you feel it; it just clicks into place. You—and I suspect only you, to be honest—can look at it again later and recall the memory that it represents. It almost feels like a secret code, or a hidden message sent from you, to you; you alone.
If you’ll humor me for a moment, try closing your eyes, thinking of a memory, and really considering its color, form and texture. If you’ll humor me further, try to find some items that feel like they fit—or if you’re so inclined, try to make that item (art; object; etc.).
I think there’s a great deal of joy in sitting with your memories, and even more in bringing them out into the world; giving them form. I’ve enjoyed trying to bring mine to life, and I hope that you do, too.