Happy New Year, everyone.

Normally the beginning of the year calls for a summary - in a celebratory or reflective manner - upon events of the previous year. I decided not to do it here, but instead, dedicate a space to share about an artists’ collaboration that I have been involved in throughout December 2021 - it’s called ‘Discarded With Honour’.

Discarded With Honour

"Among my most prized possessions are words that I have never spoken."
Orson Scott Card

‘Discarded with Honour’ is a social documentary photographic project conceived by my friend and fellow photographer, Jo Haycock. The idea behind this project as Jo once explained to me early on during one of our conversations last year is to give celebration to the possessions in our lives that no longer fit the purpose that was intended or bring the joy they once brought.

By giving them a ceremonial goodbye, through our stories and photographs, we get to engage and reconnect with the memories they hold for us. In a sense, it is about letting go with honour.

It’s a process that I am very much attuned with as I would say that I am a minimalist with a tendency to be sentimental at heart. I do love a bit of decluttering every now and then, though some items have a habit of making their way back into a cupboard or room! So when Jo invited me to be a part of this artists’ collaboration at the end of 2021, I jumped at the chance to be a part of it.

New Year and New Beginnings

A new year is a chance for new beginnings….Also, it’s a chance to celebrate and honour the old too.

What I imagined and have found so far being involved in this ‘Discarding With Honour’ project is that it is a cathartic process. Through letting go and documenting its stories and photographs, we get to share the history of how these objects came into our possession and how or with whom they have given us much joy. These are artefacts that belong in a place, whether it’s physically in our home or in our memory, they are loved upon and honoured. And we get to give them a ceremonial goodbye.

I am delighted that this artists’ collaboration will continue this year with a monthly post - our postings were weekly last December - so do follow along if you love the stories and photographs shared below. See the collaboration of artists who participated in December 2021 in Jo’s post here.

Reloved Vintage Green Table

Relove: 1. To return in love. 2. To love (someone or something) again.

I only found out recently that there is no definition of ‘Relove’ in the English dictionary; hard to find or classified with ‘love’. This feels odd as the act of (first) love and loving something again has a different sentiment attached. Memories whether they once belonged to you or someone else, it sits embedded in that being and very essence of that person or object, that now becomes part of your love when they get reloved again.

I write this as I am about to part with this side table that has sat in the house after winning in a lucky draw from a little upcycle furniture company 9 years ago. The zigzag patterns were added though the furniture is vintage. I’m not sure from what century, but it stood out against the other furniture in our house. You could say that it made a statement piece, although the odd size and shape made it cumbersome to fit anywhere neatly in the rooms.

Despite it’s odd or unique qualities, the table has had its uses from displaying picture frames and plants, my children’s rock collection to acting as a prop in my photo projects. Unfortunately, some of the paintwork has lifted due to overzealous plant watering leaving bare patches with the wood panel underneath too delicate to repaint. A couple of the wheels have fallen off too. I am not sure any furniture repairer would advise on getting it repaired.

It definitely has had its last leg, which does leave me with sadness while also glad it had a chance to be loved again. Now forever immortalised in pictures too.

Kodak Camera

The camera I first held.
The camera I recall my life as a child,
through the snippets of photos made.

A few years ago my dad entrusted the camera to me. There is no light meter and the lever to the film compartment came stiff and broken. I got the lever mended and occasionally brought it out to play, but truthfully I haven’t felt confident using it partly because it is sentimental and I’m scared of breaking it, and also shooting with film is different. Something that I’m having to learn again. And so, it sits inside a box in a cupboard for most of the time along with the rest of the cameras that I’ve acquired over the years; some of which are old and broken, and needs to be sold or discarded. This camera is too sentimental to say goodbye to and so it stays.

Lemon Reamer

Over the years, I’ve discovered that I’ve become a creature of habit. A good example of this would be the first and last cup of teas I have each day. I always start with a good teapot of Chinese tea (any type) in the morning and ending with hot water with lemon and honey last thing at night. I have it so regularly now that my husband makes them for me without asking.

It’s probably the most romantic gesture in our 14-year marriage, and I guess that’s what the old lady I once knew had in mind when she gave me a beautiful lemon reamer all those years ago as an engagement gift.

When she gave it to me, I remember viewing the object with curiosity. It took me a few minutes to understand it’s purpose which I can only attribute to my Chinese upbringing and not being familiar with this small kitchen utensil. Even now, it sits mostly in the drawer instead opting for a good old hand squeeze of lemon juice where necessary.

I have thought about maybe discarding or passing the lemon reamer to someone else who could make better use of it, but never quite got to that point. Maybe it’s part guilt/ part history/ part how it came about and the never answered question of why the lovely woman who gave it to me decided upon this object in the first place. Is it a tradition, like some token of love? Perhaps she knew more than I did, all those many years ago, that a happy marriage lasts on the premise of a good cup of lemon tea.

1970s Green Dial Telephone

Back in the 80s, my parents had this telephone in their house. Eventually it got replaced with a cordless phone and was moved up into the office loft, where I used to sneak off and go to hide out. The telephone sat on a big wooden desk and I remember tinkering with the dial just to listen to the sound of it winding back, while placing the chunky handset to my ears. Its loud ring would make us jump out of whatever we were doing to rush to pick up the phone, and I would always anticipate it was some relative calling from Hong Kong.

Since this telephone has been in my possession, I have got it out for one time to use mainly to remind myself of its simple charm. I was curious to see if the children might play with it, but I think I fooled myself into thinking that they would be interested. Mobile phones/ WhatsApp/ FaceTime have replaced the way I/they connect with our friends and family nowadays. What would they have with the use of an old telephone?

I think someone else might appreciate its charm instead, so it’s time to put down the phone and say one last goodbye.

Christmas Joy

This is a ceremonial goodbye to Christmas and everything that it encompassed of this season as the last post from our weekly posts in December 2021.

It feels strange to be giving a ceremonial honour to Christmas given that so many have not been able to celebrate this holiday in the way that they wanted. Although it felt like a normal Christmas for us despite the regular testing and getting to see our family and friends, it did not lack the anxiety or disappointing feeling to know that so many missed out on being with loved ones for yet another Christmas again.

As the year came to an end and looking back on this festive period, I wanted to honour Christmas in some way to give thanks as a family that we had each other in spite of another difficult year of Covid. When the decorations are packed away and our real Christmas tree will be put out to recycle, it won’t be long before Christmas will be upon us again and we can look forward to celebrating other Christmases together. And so, I document parts of Christmas so we could let go of these objects (and feelings) that I hope certain aspects will not return the following year in 2022.