Ever since I got back from the House of Mildew in Massachusetts, I have been living with all the stuff I brought back from there. There is so much stuff that I cannot see the floor. I have to creep through pathways and little canyons to get to my art table or computer. I am living in Hoarderland right now.
If I try to undo some of this or sort it out, it just means more clutter everywhere because there is literally no open flat space to put anything down. So I have to put it on top of something else, thus hiding it from my view. I have been working on the photos, and now there has been an explosion of photos, with boxes of paper prints stacked all over anything that won't fall down.
Why keep this stuff you might ask. Because this is not trivial crap that I have bought for my own vanity, nor is it some sort of intentional collection. This is the record of lives, valuable lives of my parents, self, and family, and I want them to be remembered. Each photo is a moment that I remember, or I heard my mother and father talk about. It is my duty and my honor to save these memories and put them in Digital Land so that they will be preserved for at least a few years longer. No one knows how long digital files will remain.
The current push in our cluttery society is to get that Zen Mindfulness which I see on all the glossy magazine covers. We've got to be MINDFUL of everything. And keep our dwellings mindfully maintained, with mindful vacuum cleaners and mindful kale salad. And some Japanese lady will tell us that I don't need to keep that picture of my friends' long-deceased cat. But I am not mindful. I am chaotic, at least now. I want to make order but it's taking a long, long time. I drew this sketch of what my living room looks like now, full of shopping bags and crates and boxes and stacks. It's actually a composite of two drawings, mindfully done from a small place I could mindfully clear from a Zen piece of furniture.
Pentel Japanese tech pen black ink on sketchbook page, composed in Photoshop, 8" x 5", October 1, 2016. Click for somewhat larger view.