I don't have much. When I left LA I gave up car, apartment, furniture, CD's, tons of clothes and household items. I have about 1 teeny box of kitchen things (the good wine glasses and um, oh the bowls Kate gave me when I was still living up north). I have some boxes of files. I have about a suitcase of clothes and another of miscellaneous-ness. I have some boxes of books, which only contain books given to meby, our purchased from, the authors, and books I cannot live without. (e.e. cummings is often essential at 3a.m.)
I kept my vinyl. And my turntable.
And my art.
Having an art collection is one of the best things I've done. Some things were given to me by friends or by the artists. Most of the art on my walls came from people I know. So when I was sitting in a room, I'd look up on the walls, and there would be Jaha's painting, just like her spirit was in the room with me.
Painting by Jaha Zainabu
A package came from NY today with a few things the new baggage regulations wouldn't let me squeeze in this time. In it was a graf painting I'd forgotten about. I put it on the wall. It was a gift, but somehow it fits in completely with the art I've already got here. As you may notice, it was actually painted for me.
Some of my art is still in storage, and some with friends, but having some pieces around me is awesome. I took pictures of a lot of my pieces before I left, so I could look at them sometimes. They each represent experience, meeting, community. Artists whose work you own often takes a casual acquaintance and turns it into a friendship.
Painting by Lost Goat
People get anxious when you tell them you don't have stuff. Not having stuff doesn't make me anxious. Sometime's it's having stuff that does. While a writer likes nothing so well as a great view out a window or a plain white wall in that moment of thinking and glancing out to the future to grasp precise expression, there is also the moment of a side-wards glance for inspiration. Let that gaze fall upon art.
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