remnants: a beginning
I'm a saver. A saver of bits and pieces, of things that may someday have untold value for one project or another, of art materials (both the traditional and non-traditional sorts), and of just about anything that inspires or bewilders. But, as of late, the saver in me has been battling it out with my inner organizer. A recent effort to simplify has led to cleaning, purging, throwing and giving things away, and trying to reduce as much as possible.
And, thus, I've been left with quite the predicament. What stays? What goes? What comes of the cherished bits and pieces that have been added to my life through the years? But, it seems that the solution to my problem lies quite simply in its origin. These treasures were saved with the purpose of transformation. Becoming something new was always their ambition, and so I must help them toward this goal. I must create. Create from the remnants.
I've always loved the word remnants, perhaps because I see all of my saving as just that: holding on to remnants from the past, pieces of things that were unwanted, that didn't carry on with their rightful owners, that couldn't exist as a whole but lingered on in a smaller, more save-able form. Broken shells overlooked too long by countless beach-goers. Photos rescued from yard sales. Pieces from incomplete games and toys. Buttons leftover from long-discarded shirts. These are the things I save and love and must now surrender. For the sake of my inner desire for simplicity. For the sake of art. And, for the sake of restoring meaning to these cast-off, yet innately beautiful, remnants.
And, thus, I've been left with quite the predicament. What stays? What goes? What comes of the cherished bits and pieces that have been added to my life through the years? But, it seems that the solution to my problem lies quite simply in its origin. These treasures were saved with the purpose of transformation. Becoming something new was always their ambition, and so I must help them toward this goal. I must create. Create from the remnants.
I've always loved the word remnants, perhaps because I see all of my saving as just that: holding on to remnants from the past, pieces of things that were unwanted, that didn't carry on with their rightful owners, that couldn't exist as a whole but lingered on in a smaller, more save-able form. Broken shells overlooked too long by countless beach-goers. Photos rescued from yard sales. Pieces from incomplete games and toys. Buttons leftover from long-discarded shirts. These are the things I save and love and must now surrender. For the sake of my inner desire for simplicity. For the sake of art. And, for the sake of restoring meaning to these cast-off, yet innately beautiful, remnants.
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