Yesterday, I was finaly able to watch “Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium” in its entirety. At the onset, the sight of magical toys was enough for me to declare it a potential Christmas movie. (How come they don’t show “The Sound of Music” anymore? And why was there no tv movie listing for “It’s a Wonderful Life”?)
I realized, however, that its true charm and joy lies in the bewilderment of Mary Mahoney as she realizes that she neither needed no magic wooden block nor the presence of a Mr. Magorium in her life. More importantly, the ending of Mr. Magorium’s life (and the movie’s as well) is the beginning of her story.
The idea of the continuing story is at the heart of one of my revered books, “If on a winter’s night a traveler” by Italo Calvino, in which the story ends with the Reader having to decide between two inevitable endings – death or marriage. The Reader (a he, by the way) chose marriage. This only happens because the physical book has to end some time, but the message is clear – the story continues somewhere else. It has to, if our life had to depend on it.
Thus having laid the foundational anecdotes to introduce this maiden post in my new home, I say goodbye to the old Bananaducky, faithful friend and refuge for six years, and in with the new Cabinet Curiosities.
About the name. Sarah (the designer of this blog) and I were throwing around various names. She aimed for positivity and a fresh start, while I wanted to evoke the (as a friend once aptly put it) many compartments of me. Finally, I threw the phrase “cabinet of curiosities,” an idea that can be traced to the Renaissance period, to refer to “encyclopedic collections of types of objects” (sorry, the source is Wikipedia, but it’s quite handy). Today, the suggestion of a “cabinet of curiosities” has a quaint appeal, with collections ranging from the nostalgic to the bizaare, collections generally echoing the slew of objects, children and orphans of capitalism and commodification (if we want to go towards that direction).
There is something soothing to be derived from suggestions of such mammoth collections. I come from a family who has yet to receive the antidote for keeping things. And by keeping things, I mean my writing notebook from Grade 2; the quilted wallet my mother sewed that has seen better days; notes hastily scribbled and thrown at the addressee’s direction during 2nd year high school. A good friend recently remarked that, in particular, Los Banos families and Los Banos houses are fortunate in that department, in that they have the square meters and the fortitude not to succumb to their feigned inner Martha Stewarts and conduct a proper garage sale. Or bring themselves to building a bonfire and just burn the bejesus out of every last piece of objects.
Oh no, not in our house. For as long as there is space left, and for as long as the water from the leaking roof will not catch up with them, each and every object will have a place in our home.
It is this sense of hopeless ‘archivism’ (for we want to romaticize it, n’est-ce pas?) and the breathless, fathomless reserves of our memories, the many lives we lead (not merely by roles, but plain lives), which I hope would fuel Cabinet Curiosities.
Thus prompts the next question – what happened to ‘of’? This, unfortunately, was out of circumstance. cabinetofcuriosities.wordpress.com was unavailable. But cabinetcuriosities.wordpress.com was. Then, I suggested to Sarah that the URL stays cabinetcuriosities while the name to be found in the blog would include the preposition. Wisely, Sarah pointed out the wisdom behind the phrase with the missing preposition. I reread it and was convinced of its charm. Readers who know the history of the phrase can, at first, be disappointed, contemplate questions of typographical errors. Others can begin to imagine what examples there are of cabinet curiosities. What kind of cabinet is it? How big or small is it? Is it antique or one of those Ethan Allen creations? Do Ikea cabinets require installation, and if yes, how long would it take until I reluctantly call up the first male in my phonebook and surrender the parts, tools and manual to him?
Name of blog, check. Next order of concern – the look of the blog.
Sarah wanted something minimalist (yes, yes a too-abused term) for me, something in black and white, perhaps? (Yes, she was also the first to admit that this was her ‘thing’ right now. I might as well go along with it.) I toyed with the idea of Edward Gorey, the Gothic illustrator and artist. Together, we Googled for images of his illustrations as inspiration. I found one picture, depicting a girl in the midst of tumbling down a flight of stairs. Beneath it, the caption reads “A is for Amy who fell down the stairs.” “Sarah!” I gushed. “This is just too coincidental!” She immediately cautioned me, “But Ma’am, it’s so negative. You, falling down a flight of stairs?”
Nix Edward Gorey.
She reassured me that she will try her best to capture the charm of Gorey’s black and white minus the dark humor. Dark humor does not bode well with what should be a celebratory beginning.
When I finally saw the upside-down flower bed bordering the top of the blog, my heart sang. It was more than I expected. I immediately thought of that Marcel Proust quote about friends being the gardeners of our soul. Yes, there are more details which need tweaking. But what you find right now in Cabinet Curiosities is pretty much the bedrock of the blog. Blog design, check.
About the name. I thought that if and when my fiction gets published, my nom de plume is Pilar Basas. Now, Pilar Basas was a real person, my mother’s older sister. She was a math major who belonged to a family who was fortunate enough to have had a mother who thought that there is more to the lives of girls than preparing them for a life of marriage and having babies, that sending them to school is but the right thing to do. (Note: On the street where they lived, only two households sent their girl children to school.)
Having a long-winded name, “Pilar Basas” evokes simplicity and fangs. I’ve always thought that if I ever adopt a daughter, I’d name her Pilar.
Name of writer, check.
As I wrote in my swan song to Bananaducky, one thing that I promise to myself and my readers is that I will never, ever, address posts to one person ever again. Which only means that what I will write about in this blog are topics of possible interest to as many people as possible, written with my point of view and short attention span flavoring them.
And promise: more pictures. As soon as get used to the intricacies of WordPress.
This for now. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
