hoarding whore

Jacob and I were recently discussing my fabulous ‘collection of things’ in my craft room. I have vintage photographs of longlost (read: imaginary) relatives. I have hundreds of art postcards. All of my shelves are kissed with little inspirational trinkets and tchotchkes. It’s my art den. My own little womb, swathed in a comforting blanket of personal joy.

It’s when I bring out my collection of clippings/images that things get outtahand...

I have folders of clippings cut from women’s magazines of the 50s: images of women, images of Danish Modern furniture, bizarre floral design, recipes for peculiar dishes combining gelatin and beef. I have folders of clippings cut from contemporary design magazines, and children’s encyclopedias. I have images of amazing diy projects I want to do someday, or ads incorporating reinterpretations of famous works of art. Folders!Folders!Folders!

Sometimes opening up a folder is like getting reacquainted with an old friend. “Oh, I haven’t seen you in years!” (although it may have only been a few months). And certainly, there are images I’ve carried around with me in these folders for over a decade.

I really have come so far. I used to just keep the entire magazine. I had boxes and boxes of magazines that I’d schlep from house to apartment to new house. I have pared down. A select lucky number of images will actually be incorporated into something of meaning. Whether it’s a journal, or an art piece – there are some images that I feel like I need to be able to see at a moment’s notice, while other images comfort me keeping the thousands of others company.

I got so caught up in a sea of my images that I forgot altogether that Jacob was there. My focus on relating all these familiar images together took over, and I realized what Jacob was saying all along --- I don’t collect; I hoard.

Paws off, Buck-o! I bear my teeth and growl at any scoff of the legitimacy and value of my things. My glorious, gorgeous things! You may have your books, or priceless china. For me, I'll take my musty-smelling, jagged-edged images over the crown's jewels - anydayoftheweek!