Me [Referring to a recent picture post on]: You’re texturising Koralatov. I guess I like that.
Koralatov: Texturising?
Me: It’s artistic. Be thankful I didn’t spell it with a zed.
Koralatov: I would have wept.
Koralatov: I suppose all blogs should reflect their writer’s surroundings at least a little.
Me: They certainly shouldn’t be prepared in a vacuum. Maybe you were contexturalising [sic].
Koralatov: A blog isn’t written in a vacuum, but it can be easy to forget to contexturalise it with the little details of your surroundings.
Koralatov: Your next post: contexturalisation
Koralatov: You may have just coined a new term. I’ve never come across it before.
Me: Challenge accepted.

Writing can be charged with the writer’s personality. The phrasing. The words. It can be so recognisable, sometimes easily so. Also, take eloquence: there are a gifted few who can write prose with such beauty and conciseness that only a few sentences can extrude from abstract a world that is alive to all our senses, and bonded to our emotions; inviting us to compare what is read, with what we have known.

With context, we can better understand the source of the writer; their writings, state of mind, how they have developed; and are able to build a deeper appreciation from this place. Introducing texture via mixed media and unexpected or hitherto tangential [to published] subjects, the reader is also given additional perspective; able to perch on a higher vantage point. But for the texture added to be worthwhile, it must be applicable. It must contribute towards the contextual dimension of the writing. Riffing can work; regurgitating already-recycled goods does not.

Contexturalising, then, is not about adding junk to your stream. It is about applying layers of context and texture to affect the atmosphere, personality or mood. It can be applied to anything to enhance it, or to invalidate it.

AuthorI.B. Simpson