Wednesday, July 28, 2004

Life is Art - oh, really? In glossy B & W it is.

Since when has decluttering, cleaning, wiping, cleansing, washing, soaking  become art?

There's a black and white photo I've rediscovered of a kitchen sink in a delapidated counter that pretty much says it all.

Except there's no place to put it so I can see it and know that this state of affairs is a shared anguish.

This photograph has the distinction of being the first piece of art I've bought and not traded for...or surreptitously thought that if I wanted one badly enough I could make my own.  (Come to think of it, I do have a similar snapshot burried in my clutter - a snapshot I didn't have the courage to call a photograph) 

 The artist was alone in a booth, surrounded by kitsch-artists.  She was just a kid, and I had the honour of watching her self-esteem flower as she accepted my $8 that justified her as artist and photographer.

Thursday, July 22, 2004

Deconstruction

verb:  transitive.   Cleaning up after construction.
 
Interesting that "junk"  is what the other person collects, isn't it? 
 
Staying married in spite of renovations....or, in (t)his case, renovating in spite of being married.
 
Trapped in a room with Home and Garden television and a stack of ironing; the fridge in the family room, the contents of the cupboards heaped in the dining room, the new holes in the drywall
 
Maybe I've been spoiled by the Clean Sweep team who get it done in two days.  There's no team of organizers behind me.  No carpenters.  Just one, very kind, very patient girlfriend who is doing her level best to keep me focussed on throwing stuff out.
 
Home and Garden television has replaced the beautiful skinny model on the glossies in ensuring my feelings of inadequacy remain deeply imbedded.
 
NEAT episode showcased a musician who wasn't being musical because her apartment was cluttered.  It made me want to cry.  There but for the grace of God go I....not being artistical because of the clutter.  But, of course, it's not the studio that's being fixed.  It's the kitchen - the slave room.
 
The kitchen WILL look great with the new floor.
 
Martha Stewart  sits in jail and her stock climbs.  I sit at home and my blood pressure climbs.
 
Deadline:  The day before boy-child gets back from camp.