Hoarding and other comforts…
Being only two dogs away from being classified as a clinically diagnosed hoarder, I suppose it comes as no surprise that I have a hard time throwing away anything.

Everything seems filled with possibilities. Every empty box could be a robot! Every dead pen could someday come back to life (the messes I’ve made trying to refill favorite pens…). And every single item is ephemera. Which is a building block for art, and I’m an artist, right?

On top of that, I find it hard not to imbue objects with character and personality. The NY coffee cup is stoic and trustworthy with its iconic design. The eggshells (coated with acrylic medium) contain all the wonder I felt at holding the chicks as they grew into egg-laying dinosaurs. The wishbones (washed and sunbleached) feel optimistic and hopeful…each one a potential wish-come-true.

No need to call in the professionals–I know enough to see the folly in it. To further keep the judgement at bay, every so often I make sure to I purge my tiny studio of these artifacts, mourning for every flimsy bit of lost potential along the way.