In an era of constant connectivity and algorithmic visibility, blogs paradoxically turn creators into slaves to platforms.
We are constantly conscious of the eyes of others, censoring ourselves to suit the tastes of search engines. Escaping this closed, surveillance-like environment, I have decided to build my own "A Digital Sanctuary" in this space.
This is a space strictly for "archiving." This project is a solitary act of organizing for myself. I believe in the density of records that accumulate as time passes. Even if a day comes when the massive infrastructure of Google terminates its services, my data—neatly preserved in standard HTML, the purest form that will remain unchanged over time—will endure as a clean original that can be transplanted anywhere at any time. This resembles the attitude of the honest chroniclers of the early web—the era of personal homepages—who silently stacked up their own traces.
Today, I lay another brick in my own digital museum. What will remain at the end of this solitary journey of recording will be a solid, free digital territory, filled entirely with my own records and free from the interference of anyone else.
This is a space strictly for "archiving." This project is a solitary act of organizing for myself. I believe in the density of records that accumulate as time passes. Even if a day comes when the massive infrastructure of Google terminates its services, my data—neatly preserved in standard HTML, the purest form that will remain unchanged over time—will endure as a clean original that can be transplanted anywhere at any time. This resembles the attitude of the honest chroniclers of the early web—the era of personal homepages—who silently stacked up their own traces.
Today, I lay another brick in my own digital museum. What will remain at the end of this solitary journey of recording will be a solid, free digital territory, filled entirely with my own records and free from the interference of anyone else.
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