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Downsize? Never!
After reading last week’s column, someone asked me if LOML and I were getting ready to “downsize”. Who the H E Double Hockey sticks came up with that word and why do so many folks think every old fart is interested in downsizing? I do dream about living in a house that is level and square, but let’s be realistic, “this old house” will never be “level and square”. We’ve lived here for forty years and this place has always been a funhouse. No basement. A drop of almost three inches from one side of the kitchen to the other. And most of the floors have a bit of give to them. The main beam is a hewn log that regularly engages with LOML’s cranium when he’s in the cellar for this or that.
So back to last week. How did my storage room clean-up go? I’m glad you asked! First of all, it’s not easy parting with “stuff”. If you’ve tried and ended up with the same amount of “stuff”—but in neater piles—I feel your pain. I only parted with one large, paper shopping bag full of “stuff” and all of the other “stuff” is now living on those newly assembled shelves. I have to say, the storage room looks a lot better than it ever looked in forty years of stuffing stuff in there. While I was at it, the sorting and the sighing, the shivering and the reminiscing, I asked myself why I was attempting to do this sortakinda- purge-thingy. Could it have been a comment from a family member, or a friend, about the amount of fascinating things I have collected over the years? I remember one friend mentioned something about the number of books we own, as if that were a bad thing. Another wondered why we had so much art that clearly didn’t match the wall colour or the upholstery nor did it have a theme. A newer family member said something about how he prefers simplicity, while glancing around at the forty plus works of art we have in our downstairs area. Was I feeling guilty about the love for art and artful pieces, which LOML and I share? No. Not even a little bit. Our only regret is that now we have to consider where there will be room for the next piece. And there will be a “next piece” of art.
LOML and I do have a lot of curios, mementos, art and other curious stuff. Whenever we return home from a longish trip we let out a collective sigh of relief as we’re embraced by our collections, our comfy furniture and the quiet of our home filled with our creative stuff. As I write this, I look over at an art piece we picked up in 1994. It’s a watercolour painting a local artist created featuring our yard. The yard has changed a lot since 1994, but the memory of both the trip and of the artist linger every time we look up at it. It is the very first piece of local art we purchased, which began a journey of collecting locally created art pieces. Each of the art pieces we now own evoke memories of the artist and the time. Art inspires creativity in both of us. We all need to be inspired, every day. Today I’m surrounded by the books, the music, the art, the cultural references of our lives and the lives of our community. I won’t be wrapping, boxing or donating any of that “stuff”.
Both my mother-in-law and my mother were artists. They were artists who waited until their lives became more settled and predictable to take up paint brushes and pursue their creative drive. Mom Hart (my MIL) was an oil painter of landscapes, of still life and of painter of china pieces. My mom was an acrylic painter of Folk Art. When our parents passed away in 2008/2009 LOML and I became the curators of a sizeable collection of painterly pieces from their homes. And while there are days when I’d gladly give it all away, I find myself looking at those particular pieces and remembering the women who waited to be “the artist”.
Don’t wait to be an artist. Don’t wait to be a collector. Don’t be afraid of shelves full of books, music and art. Life is messy and there’s always room for more mess. Creating/collecting art can be an emotional release and foster imagination. So, write and paint and sculpt and collect and listen and create and read and sing and dance and learn to play an instrument. Give yourself an hour of creativity every day. You’ll love yourself for it.
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