“On a larger scale, the drive to chronicle is something that possesses us all” —Thessaly La Force
The Archives of my Partner, Chris Joseph
Death is running theme in many of Chris’ archives. The three matriarchs of his life (pictured in the frame) died back to back when he was on his mid-20’s. He buried them all single-handedly. Later in his life, he died for three seconds in a hospital from pneumonia. On this mantle, Chris piles up the records of funerals: not just of the matriarchs, but all subsequent funerals he attends: no matter how distant the relation.
One of several collections of letters, bills, and catalogues.
A box full of Chris’ son’s toys. Chris Jr. is now 30 years old and lives in Florida. There are three garbage bags in our hallway full of Chris Jr’s clothing (children’s clothing). My studio was Chris Jr’s bedroom. His son’s bed frame is still standing against a wall in there.
An old TV guide, a newspaper touting the benefits of garlic and vinegar (two things you will always find in our home) a copy of the Penthouse magazine featuring Vanessa Williams that got Williams dethroned as the first Black Ms. America. Chris froths at the mouth if any program comes on that covers Monroe’s death.
Programming textbooks from two decades ago.
Glassware from various events that Chris has attended. and dried roses that are important to him (Im’ not jealous). If you look closely, there is a broken glass in a glass. He will not throw it away.
VHS cassettes in the era of digital download. Chris also has a VHS player hooked up to the television and another VHS player laying around the apartment as back up.
An old computer monitor not in use but not going anywhere anytime soon. She lives behind the couch.
An old phone that is not plugged in or in working order. There is another that lives behind the television that is plugged in but muted and not in use. I do not know why he keeps it connected. One can hear the ghost of a ring every once in a while of someone calling. Perhaps it is a wrong number. He never picks it up,
Three boxes of chocolates that have been sitting on the TV stand for many years, unwrapped, unopened.
This is only a few of the many, many playbills crammed into a magazine rack in the corner of the living room.
Chris’ grandmother’s bible. Chris was horrified when I took this down from the back of a closet. It was wrapped in an old plastic shopping bag. He was afraid that it being exposed now to the open air would ruin it. I placated him by wrapping it in plastic.
This is one of two old television sets laying around unsued and unconnected and also the aforementioned VHS player on stand by in case the first VHS player stops working.
Several archives showcasing Chris’ fascination with former first lady Jackie O.
Two Christmas trees and at the top of this pile are two kitchen tiles that are cracked and ususable that Chris will not allow me to throw out.
One of three menagerie of keys for unknown doors and locks.
The walker that Chris had to use when he came out of the hospital. Closeby is the portable potty that he used and, in another room he stores the oxygen tank.