In 2011 I found a library's "book card" in a book that used to be my father's, a book I inherited when my parents died. It gave me a glimpse into his life. My father must have walked uptown to Columbia University Library, taken out the book – and kept it. After I read the book I thought about the book card. They were both souvenirs: physical objects that commemorate an aspect of my father's life.

Each of my books does that in a sense: it holds the secret to where and when my mother, my father or I held it or carried it around. Book Card is an attempt to inventory the non-obvious stories my books contain. I am dipping into each one like a book card, handling it at least long enough to trigger my memory or imagination, identify something meaningful and focus on it. Book Card is the record of that performance.

Instagram represents another performance. With the act of posting from the studio, each book is integrated into my forward-facing present and my parents’ book-stories are simultaneously integrated with mine. With this, my history becomes a little better reflected in what everyone can see about me.

For the first 847 days of the series, I posted a new picture once daily.