Wednesday, July 17, 2013

collecting collections

Laura, a neighbor and sister artist, moved a little while ago. So now she's a neighbor who lives just a little further away. During her packing and purging I'd been offered art materials ~ a nearly-full gallon of gesso and a fair stack of matte board. I was offered books of all kinds. These items were gladly received, though I'm still trying to find a home for the big art books. The surprise offering, however, was a collection of . . . things.

Laura's collection in its new home.

In lovely clear glass vases, each organized according to item, were twisted sticks, seeds, pods, sea urchins, shells, sand dollars, dried leaves and acorn caps. They are the very kinds of things I'd collect on any sojourns in Nature. Trips to the ocean's shores require a bucket if not two. My hiking hats are festooned with feathers and dried flowers. More often than not, my pockets are lined with rocks and tiny, twisted roots. Laura may as well have asked if I wanted a treasure chest in offering up her collection to me. I accepted them with great delight. And once home (alone), I went through every vase inspecting each item, setting shells and urchins on the table, blowing off seed pods and gently brushing dust from the dried leaves. Then they were all put back again, fresh and new to me, waiting for inspiration to strike.

What does it say about a person who collects collections?

Hearing a Talking Heads tune this afternoon became my journal prompt for another spread ~ clock faces and altered photos, stamps and spray inks . . . there will be more here, I'm sure.What amuses me, though, is how wrong I've had the lyrics for all these years. I could have sworn David Byrne was saying, Time isn't holding us, Time is an act of us. Which I always thought was pretty damned pithy and cool. So. I've been wrong. For 25 years (ouch!). The second half of that pithy statement ain't so pithy ~ Time isn't after us. Really, DB? Time isn't after us? What the hell does that mean? I made it pithy and cool in my journal and, therefore, can continue to be in awe of something heard incorrectly.

Time isn't holding us . . .

Time is an act of us.


Ashling said...

I prefer your version.

Ruth said...

You lucky, lucky woman. Treasures indeed!

Who knows what DB actually sang as compared to what's written up as actual lyrics? Perhaps he said what you heard. He certainly should have.