Choking on the Splinters

I might be selling the studio. This is because, financially, we need to tighten up in case neither of us can get work in the upcoming months. Cara will have more of a problem than I will, but that's because she earns a little more than the $10 an hour jobs I've gotten lately.

In an effort to reduce the bulk in the studio, I took advantage of our county Saturday "special" and brought a van-load full of wood and miscellany to the dump yesterday.

Cathartic is the operative word here. For about three hours, I didn't stop moving for all the stuff I brought to the van. So much of what I threw out will truly not be missed-there's no need to think about replacing it as it truly was extra. In all probability, I'll have several more loads like this before I really get down to the material that counts-the stuff that I need or know that I can use, but need to chuck just because it's so heavy to move (the plan is to erect a pre-fab double garage on the property) or to damn bulky to store. Peel away the rougher layers and that's when the pain starts.

There is true security in having all this stuff around me-an ability to always work for the surplus of "raw" material. But I so like collecting it all...this topic is one that I've had countless times with friends and strangers-just why do people like to collect?

I always claim to be hard-wired for it because of my Dad, who still, at 87, grabs anything that's free and not nailed down-you can see true regret in his eye for those items too impractical to glom...but isn't this the same as the person who blames everyone else so as to never directly address the issue? I don't need to enter a 12-step program on this (Cara might disagree), but it is a curious phenomenon-especially now that I'm "facing the music" in "cleaning" up my space.

I hope to have a studio "Show and Sale" in three weeks-and trying to make the space somewhat presentable is going to take some time-we aren't talking "dust bunnies", but "dust porcupines" here...it's gonna be a big job!

I actually threw out a sculpture in the mix yesterday-this got me to thinking about what happens after someone dies. Bit by bit, the objects that defined their life are either dispersed (charities, relatives, house sales) and the most sentimental objects are preserved, like symbols, by those that want to remember them the most. Eventually, these people pass on as well and even the retained sentimental objects lose their meaning and go to the trash or for sale.

I never meant to leave so many markers behind. But in thinking about what will remain after I die, I'm amazed. In my role as an artist, I've placed a lot of stuff on this earth and plenty of people have this stuff. Am I famous? I don't think so, but there is a high level of regard for what I've done, to the point where I get paid to do it. Not one for false modesty, I stand in awe of this. I mean, I have to do this stuff-there is no choice involved (being creative-or whatever you'd like to call what I am- is a blessing and a curse). I didn't start out thinking that I'd make money on it.... I create mostly from scratch and people buy my work and give it a place of respect in their homes. It's an honor which sometimes boils down to being just a procedure or a business. But , still the whole scope of this thing is mind-boggling. It is a gift-not one without some hitches and problems, but a gift nonetheless. So who do I thank?

a) Thanks to Beck Hanson for my title and his engaging poetry.
b) This one is called "The Handseller" and is an older work-I'm running out of "good" photos to put on the blog-I have LOTS of new work since I went to my photographer, all shot with my camera and all looking like snapshots. Soon you will be experiencing some of this fine photography!