In the critically acclaimed, but somewhat uneven, movie The Brutalist there is a visually striking scene where two of the main characters visit a marble quarry in Italy. Horrible things happen at the quarry that make a bit of a heavy handed point about dedication to a creative vision and the inherent exploitation that occurs when you depend on capital to realize that vision. Setting that dénouement aside, though, what has stayed with me after seeing the film is a fascination with the process of extracting these geological formations and turning them into discrete, valuable objects.
The result is that I have been on YouTube watching footage of marble quarries. For instance:
Lately I've been thinking about the purpose of this blog. Who do I write it for? Why do I spend time arranging these words and putting them out into the world? This thought crops up every now and then as I publish different things and inevitably have fleeting thoughts about audience.
If you're here for my writing about my little bespoke tech projects, you'll be disappointed by how much I write about the experience of living abroad. If you're here for the travel writing, you'll be alienated by the overly-specific tech writing. And if you're here for my in-depth explorations of the history of niche book blurbs, then you've spent the last two years extremely disappointed whenever you check this site.
In short, every time I publish any writing here the thought "who is this for?" flashes through my mind. The short answer is mostly myself, but it's a bit more complicated than that. While I have looked at and appreciated the idea of "a digital garden," it doesn't feel quite right for my approach. I'm not returning to these posts and updating them or refining the points I've made. It's true that certain themes might emerge over time as I revisit a topic or idea, but I cringe at the idea of calling it a "knowledge system."
And so, minor obsessions and questions about purpose have collided and created an idea. The best metaphor for this blog is as a "quarry" for my thoughts.[1] As life continues to unfold, thoughts and ideas inevitably build up and layer over time. They create unexpected patterns that I don't fully comprehend and want to get a better look at. At its best this blog is a means of extracting and refining sections of this build up. Somewhere that a chunk of thought can be pulled out and examined in the light. If it doesn't have too many flaws, maybe I'll trim it down and polish it and show it off to other people.
Of course, sometimes you cut out a 100 ton block and it breaks into a bunch of unusable pieces. This is why I don't consider this a garden, my draft folder is a pile of unusable scrap that I might grind down and try to turn into something else, but it's certainly not something I'm going to post up and try to nurture into maturity.[2]
If you watched the video and you're still with me, I'll just close by saying my role at the quarry is fairly fluid. Sometimes I am the slow, diamond-bit chainsaw methodically making deep cuts into the mountain. Sometimes I am the lithe Italian man staring at an immense block and doing my best to mark what's good enough to keep and what should be discarded. Often times, I am the out-of-place public television host asking rote questions about what exactly is going in this area.[3]
In any case, if you're here, I'm glad you find the quarry interesting enough to have a look around. Please mind your step and watch your head as you finish the rest of your tour.
I am aware that other types of quarries exist and that the extractive processes the use and their end products might cause this metaphor fall apart. At the risk of some metaphorical elitism, I'm choosing to focus specifically on marble quarries.
I also appreciate using the term "quarry" because it has multiple meanings and sometimes when writing for this blog, it does feel like I am hunting some elusive thought.
When YouTube disappears or this video is no longer available, this paragraph will become inscrutable.