Stuff

I have a lot of stuff. Beautiful folk art, books, art supplies, tiny red fimo hearts, bits of flora and fauna that want to be art projects and beautiful linen sheets. It makes me happy when I wake up and see my art pieces on the wall,tucked in corners and peeking over edges. I wouldn’t change a thing but I find myself yearning to be a minimalist as I near my 60th year. After a recent painting project which involved removing everything from the walls, I am left with piles of stuff. It turns out I’m not the the only one.

According to a New York Times article today,it appears Musuems are stuffed to the gills with stuff. Many house objects that have literally never been displayed but have to be stored in climate-controlled spaces. The Musuem of Fine Arts in Houston has an overabundance of ashtrays, cocktail napkins and wine glasses. The Indianapolis Art Museum has doilies, neckties and women’s underwear. The Brooklyn Musuem even has a full-size Rockefeller Center elevator and a collection of fake old master paintings that cannot be sold. The director of the Indianapolis Museum of Arts at Newfields, Charles L. Venable, was about to spend $14 million dollars to increase its storage space and then he changed his mind. Instead, the museum went about the grand effort to rank each of the 54,000 items in the collection. Each got a letter grade, 20% receiving a D grade which will allow them to be sold or given to another institution.

This gave me pause. How do you grade the things you love? Do they get extra credit for longevity? Cost? For being sublime? I have been sitting with my painted walls, waiting for them to tell me what they need. In the meantime, my stuff is leaning against walls, is stacked on shelves, is scattered amongst the rooms of my small apartment. I have attempted to move a few pieces around, gather some speed to finish the project, create a more “adult” space. What percentage of my stuff is a D? Does that make me a bad collector of art or has my eye sharpened over the years?

I’m going to sleep on it. Grading is subjective and how can a mother grade their own children without guilt? Each piece has a memory attached to it, a memento from a trip, a significant birthday gift, a revelation. My stuff tells the story of my life, how art and creativity have opened my eyes and my heart, given me another perspective in this dimensional life. That is an A+ in my book.