Hila Shachar is a writer and researcher based in Perth, Australia. She runs le projet d’amour, a website that features a mix of creative writing and scholarly work on a range of topics, from film and art reviews to articles on the subject of writing itself.

Writing is such a natural craft. There’s a special moment in everyone’s lives when they first learned how to a write a complete sentence or to tell a story. And when it happens, it’s a glory, like a dam opened, a rush of language follows and floods. Shachar’s writing, though she’s modest about it, seems effortless – but less like a burst dam and more like a gentle, calm wave eroding the shoreline. You can picture her sitting at her desk, piles of paper, mountains of words that she ascends one thought at a time.

Can you talk about “le projet d’amour”? Why did you choose that name?

My blog wasn’t originally called “le projet d’amour”. I gave it that title when the tone of my blog changed after I finished my PhD. I had just started a new research project and I wanted my blog to feel like an extension of that project. I also felt like my blog had naturally developed into a project at that stage – that is, a space of sustained critical, creative and personal exploration. “Amour” stands for many things: love of writing, critical thought, art, film, literature and culture. But also, it stands for a project that is developed out of a desire for insight into the things we are most attached to in life. It also represents desire in its broadest possible sense, as a type of quest. I’ve always seen desire and research as linked. People tend to have a rather dry image of academic research, but I know from my own experiences that it is primarily driven by passion and a genuine curiosity about the world.

How would you describe this notion of a “love project” translated into your writing? What predominant feeling would you say takes over you when you’re writing?

That really all depends on the type of writing I undertake. I’m generally very careful not to romanticise the act and process of writing because it doesn’t occur in some metaphorical realm of disembodied inspiration. It’s a bodily act filled with aches, strains and frustration. It can also be an incredibly isolating task, and that sense of isolation colours the feelings I have when writing. This is not necessarily a bad thing though.

I guess, to answer your question more fully, the notion of a “love project” is translated into my writing through a process of self-evaluation. I’ve often thought that if you want to find out what you really think about yourself, the process of writing will reveal it to you. Sitting alone in a room with only your mind and words as company seems to purge distractions. So it’s a type of love affair with yourself. For me, the predominant feeling I have when I undertake writing that isn’t “work” but of my own choosing, is calmness.

You like to write about photographs and art, which at times can go unnoticed. Why do you think it’s necessary to give these pieces of art commentary, a voice?

I sort of see myself as a collector of fragments, and ultimately, I think that’s what our lives are made up of: small, fleeting, incomplete fragments. I suppose I like to give these fragments a voice for the same reason that some photographers like to take photographs. Susan Sontag once talked about photography as a process of participating in “another person’s (or thing’s) mortality” through photographic tokens that guard against loss and “time’s relentless melt” (Susan Sontag, On Photography, 1977). That’s a big part of my blog too. I don’t want to forget how I felt watching a certain film, reading a certain passage, experiencing a piece of art for the first time, or my reaction to a cultural debate at a given moment. I know that I will forget because our bodies aren’t perfect memory machines, so I rely on collecting fragments instead.

Also, I think it’s important to talk about all types of art and aspects in our culture and to really engage with them through critical discourse. There is so much that isn’t said in daily culture, and yet, there is also so much pointless noise. Do I really care if a celebrity was arrested? No. But do I care about how a piece of art is trying to make us think about our contemporary world? Yes. My blog is just my way of exploring things I really care about.

You recently began a new series, “On Writing”. How would you describe the ideal use of this instrument, writing? And when did you first start writing?

I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember, I just haven’t always been conscious of the act of writing itself. That is, I only recently started to engage with it as a profession rather than simply something I happen to do. Writing is my companion. I think we all have something in our lives that fills that role. It protects and exposes me simultaneously. In that sense, there is no “ideal” use of writing. Whatever meaning is attached to writing and its use is completely up to the individual. Writing serves many purposes, so it’s difficult to pin it down to an ideal function. I have to admit, I always find it a bit odd when well-known writers are asked to provide things like “rules for writers” with the expectation that they will deliver some magical formula for the act and use of writing. People just don’t function that way. What makes sense and seems “ideal” to one writer may be completely irrelevant to another. I began the “On Writing” series because I wanted to engage in a dialogue about similar concerns, thoughts and practices, but I definitely don’t view it as a formula for writing.

Besides writing and teaching, what other activities interest you?

I love ballet and I go to classes regularly. Maybe in another life I would have been a dancer. There is a sense of urgency and vibrancy that I associate with my dance classes. That feeling of movement that carries meaning can be a bit like a drug. I hate other forms of exercise because I find them boring. I’ve also very recently developed a real love of baking. So much of my time is spent within my head mulling over complex theories, trying to contend with other critics and undertaking research. Plunging my fingers in fresh dough is like an antidote to all that, and it clears my head.

Can you describe the place where you write? What sorts of things are around you?

It’s a quiet, small, secluded and sunny room. The things I have around me at all times are my cat, laptop, paper, books, music, coffee, and lots of pens. It’s also filled with art and images. I find bare walls depressing. There are reasons why certain images resonate with us, and I think we should hold on to them. I have images that I love all over my study and I think I would find it difficult to write without them.

You also love film and music. Are there other forms of media turned on when you write or is it always silent?

When I’m writing dense, critical material, such as academic articles or my book, it’s almost always silent. I use music as a type of interlude in those cases and it becomes a necessary breathing space. When I’m writing more creative pieces, I have music in the background. I’ll listen to anything that suits my mood, I don’t have a preferred genre. There really isn’t anything else turned on in my writing space, I’m not much of a gadgets person.

What is the most fundamental connection you have with le projet d’amour?

I think it’s taught me to value my writing and to focus on the process rather than simply the end-result. It’s also opened my eyes to the amount of like-minded people out there, so I connect with my blog as a doorway to a community.

- Hila Shachar, le projet d’amour
All images taken from le projet d’amour