In the back of my mind

I was recommended this article the other day by one of the most interesting, fun people I've met recently.  The spark being, as she entered my studio and peered at the various shelves upon shelves of stuff, I may have mentioned my obsession with things and she shared obsessions of her own and was instantly reminded of the artist in the aforementioned New Yorker article that walked away from it all.  30 years of collecting stuff and he closed the door and walked away.  She and I debated the possibility of doing this as we scrolled through our memories of what it is we actually have.

Open Studios weekend went down a couple weeks ago and, once again, I thoroughly enjoyed all the various people I met who walked on through 227.  It's a trippy thing, that little studio, you get enough visitors and friends in this little 10x10 space and it can start to feel like living/working in a keebler elf house.  It can tend toward other worldly in my studio, surrounded by the collections, as if you've gone back in time when you notice the girl scout sash or the hundreds of letters standing up in a cigar box, you start to get a little lost.
And I'm just talking about how I feel.

So, it's always fun to meet people who are also deeply affected by the stuff piling up around me.  The comment  I hear most often is that 'it's very organized.'  Which I think is strange and, while I don't like to get into it (it tends to sound like I'm just grumbling), I'm really not organized.  Really, truly.  Or, am I?, but to my own strange tune. 
So, I'm flattered, I'm thrilled, and it keeps me going another day, that people not only find my studio organized, but people find it interesting.
Because I'm interested,
right along with them.



When someone points out some the randomly sprawling collection of playing cards I've acquired,  I can't help but mirror (okay, sometimes 'out-do') their level of excitement for this unusual item , as if I'm finding it for the first time.  If they want to go through old photos books with me (where do i begin? depends on the curious looker: if they're sorta into it, I pull out the baby book from the dump.  if they're really into it, i pull out the leather bound one with the blue pages from the early 1900's) or on their own, I say take a seat and get into it.



I dearly love these things.  Yet, I find I can keep my passion for them and let them go.
And, yes, some of them, i'll keep forever.  I'm the first to admit it.



But, most things I think to myself, 'i'll get to you... it'll come to me'.  They're just things living with me for now.  I'm taking care of them until the next thing calls out.



I'll get to those 50 glass jars (for globes) and the 100 feathers, hand wrapped, from an old french hat maker, and those slats of different tempered wood (ah, yes, i let those go of their own free will finally) because the stuff speaks to me.

A friend recently gave me a stack of gorgeous navy, heavy-weight paper and an image for a project came to me pretty quickly.  I wouldn't have thought so when I took the paper from him(compulsively, this is what I'm admitting here:  i was being offered PAPER, beautiful, heavy lb paper, navy friggin blue, i could not, i would not, pass it up.  paper!  i rest my case) but I'm thrilled with the concept and so excited to get my hands on that paper now.

I guess I'm not walking away from my studio anytime soon....


all photos by my dear friend danica.