As we get into this Iteration, I’d like to take a minute to let you know about some changes that I’m working on that will be rolling out in the coming weeks and months. Iterations will still be weekly (mostly), but I’m going to mix up the types of posts I’ll be including and treat it more like an old-school blog. For example, you may have noticed that the Blips have been getting more substantial in terms of the research I do and the number of links I include. They started out as a just few links to things that I saw or found interesting during the previous week and have been evolving into something more comprehensive and hopefully more interesting and inspiring for you. Moving forward, they’ll still be part of their own section on Substack, but I’m going to lose the word “Blip” and the number in the naming convention of the titles to alleviate any potential confusion that comes with having Blip number 47 alongside Iteration number 124. I’m also going to be adding reviews into the mix—and that could mean books, movies, music, or the tools I use (like cameras or my favorite pencils)—so file numbering will be even more unnecessary. As you might expect, they’ll also typically include some sort of backstory and lots of links for you to explore. The more “existential” essays (like last week’s Learn to Love the Process) will continue, but won’t be quite as frequent.
As for other changes, I’m really going to try to be better about promoting my own work—namely my painting and podcasting—both of which I’ve historically been pretty terrible at promoting. On the paint side, I’ll be launching a new store for originals, prints, and the occasional limited-run product, including at least two zine projects. One of them is solo and the other is more collaborative, but more on those in the coming weeks.
The podcast side is a little more challenging and it’s something I’ve gone back and forth on for a while. In the past, I had multiple shows and each of them had their own feed. But I saw all of them as more or less different sides or aspects of the same larger conversation around creativity so I merged them all into one. I won’t go into detail about the upcoming changes, other than to say that I’m simplifying it both for you and for me. While we’re on podcasts, I want to let you know about a podcast I was on recently that was an absolute treat. Mali Davies is a nature and woodlands photographer in the UK who was a listener of the Deep Natter podcast I did with Sean Tucker. Mali reached out to me to ask if I would be interested in being a guest on his Let’s Create — Let’s Talk podcast. Of course I said yes, and I’m so glad I did. Mali is just a sweetheart and we had a terrific conversation. I think we’re going to do more in the new year so if you enjoy the first one, stay tuned. I really do love podcasting and though I’ve taken a break from it for a bit, I’m eager to get back into production so I can share new conversations with you. That said, if there’s something you think I should write about in the newsletter or someone you think I should have on my show and that you can connect me with, shoot me an email at talkback@jefferysaddoris.com.
On the latest episode of On Taking Pictures (which you can find in your favorite podcast app), Bill and I talked about my recent trip to California, which led to a fascinating deep-dive around memories, nostalgia, and the importance of objects in our lives. It’s the first time I’ve been back in about six years and only the second time I’ve been back since moving to Maryland. I was there to visit my stepmother Linda ahead of her birthday and her husband Michael as well as a few family friends who have known me my whole life. As we pulled into the driveway at Linda’s house, one of the first things I saw was my dad’s 1974 Ford F100 pickup, which Linda had trailered back to California last year from Arizona where it had been stored since my dad died. As coincidence would have it, she also has her dad’s 1971 Chevy truck and the same mechanic who keeps it running was able to bring “Old Blue” back to life. Hearing that truck fire up for the first time in more than a decade was a pretty emotional experience. I got into the passenger seat and as the smell of the truck washed over me, it brought with it a flood of tears and memories—of my childhood along the Colorado River, sleeping across the bench seat while dad and Linda slept in the back, of driving it to high school before I got my 1961 VW Beetle, and of watching it shrink in my rear view as I drove away from my father’s house for the last time in November of 2013. There are objects in our lives that become more than the sum of their parts. They come to represent something greater and more significant and that truck has become that for me. It’s a touchstone of sorts to a life that was and a connection to years past. Linda feels it too and the fact that she not only still has it but is willing to let it pass to me speaks volumes about her character and about our relationship.
Over the few days that I was there, I got a lot of solo time with Linda because Michael was at their restaurant. She shared stories about my mom and dad that I had never heard and some things about herself that I never knew. We’ve always been close, but since my dad died, I feel like we’ve come into our own apart from him, which I couldn’t be more grateful for. Since she entered my life when I was about five, she has never treated me as anything less than her son. She and my mom were like sisters and she has taken on the role of archivist for our family as well as her own. Photos, movies, documents, objects, and memories have fallen to her to care for and over the years she has shared those things with me. Even on this trip, I came home with not just stories and memories, but also objects and ephemera that I either hadn’t seen for years or in some cases had never seen before. And I think the reason that these things have become so important to me is that my family history ends with me. I have no siblings to carry on our name, so when I go, that’s it. The only things that will be left are the photographs—and hopefully dad’s truck.
QUESTIONS
Who’s the caretaker of your family history? Do you have a favorite family object or maybe a memory of your parents that you’d like to share? Hit reply, leave a comment, or email me at talkback@jefferysaddoris.com. I’d love to hear from you.
Thanks very much for reading.
Wonderful article. My eldest sister has somewhat taken the mantle of family archivist, but she did it mostly for her daughter. In turn she gave all of the siblings a copy of their own to keep. She produced two books. One for my mom and another for my dad though I believe the latter to be only a partial completion as he has already passed when she was making it. My mom fortunately is still alive and was able to recount much of the info for my sister.
I’ve recently also started taking a bit of interest in the family archive though I’m not nearly as far as she is with the family history.
I listened to your chat with Mali the other night - it was such a good listen, a proper conversation, as if we were all sitting round a table after dinner. I'm looking forward to round 2.
I suppose I could be called the family archivist, although I do wonder sometimes why bother as I don't think my children are that interested; maybe that will change as they get older. At the moment, it's all about living their own lives.