From My Collage Bns

I found the following quote cut up and taped together in one of my bins of collage materials that I’ve been curating for over three decades.

A completed sentence ends with a small black dot, but that’s how epiphanies begin. A coffee bean. A tiny, good thing from the earth. But the best ones have something special locked inside: an exotic destination, a spirited conversation, a divine inspiration. We search the world to find those and bring them to you.

I don’t know who said this, but I love it. If you happen to know, please share your knowledge, and I’ll credit the rightful owner of these wondrous words. I’m pretty sure they’re talking about coffee beans, but the implication—that tiny things are precious and worth the search—feels so big to me.

Considerations

I’m getting rid of things I don’t need anymore. I’ve burned old agendas and given away objects that no longer work for me (literally and metaphorically). While rummaging through my studio, I’ve come across so many little trinkets, curios, and fragments of images—each one a reminder of an exotic destination, a spirited conversation, a divine inspiration. I have traveled near and far, collecting things to turn into art and to remind me of my adventures.

I don’t need or want the t-shirt that says Italia, or the keychain that says Malaysia, or the shot glass that says Jamaica. I do, however, want the teaspoon of sand that looks like black pepper, the pink foil unwrapped from a cork of champagne in London, the matchbox from what felt like a very cool underground speakeasy in St. Paul, Minnesota, over a decade ago.

Going through my boxes, I found notes and postcards, images from magazines that spoke to me, desires left unfulfilled—and some fulfilled. I lingered longer than expected, going through these boxes, looking at phrases and words I kept–an archaeological dig of my personal history. Precious.

For so many years, I avoided going through these boxes of crafty bits. Now I plow through them because it feels like reclaiming something small, good, and essential. It feels like shedding what I don’t need. It is a cleanse of the best kind.

From my collage bins comes a version of me from the near past who I am grateful for, who I am proud has changed where necessary or stayed the same where needed. Am I done gathering? Maybe–for now. Actually, nah. Probably not.

As always, thank you for reading, Lovelies.