would have had...

reflections on holding on to things for "one day"

Well hello there! How wonderful to meet you in this weekly space.

Should you wish to listen to an audio version of this post I have recorded if for you here (I recorded it thrice but the sounds of dogs and family persistently arose!)

If you happened to read last week’s musings, you will recall that I mentioned something that was the subject of another post.

Boats folded from damaged vintage sheet music as part of a collaboration

My usual pattern is I promise myself to return to something like that, and have full intentions of doing so at the time, but somehow life and new shiny things and experiences get in the way and the promise grows feint, deflates, gets covered in leaves or dust and is forgotten.

So.

In striving to do things differently, I will write that promised post today.

It is a reflection on a behaviour pattern cut from a similar cloth to that mentioned above - the cloth of procrastination.

Now, I used to frustrate myself (who am I kidding, I still do) by constantly pushing away the “should do thises or thats”.

I am a master of sliding into the crease as a deadline whooshes through the air towards the wickets of time. Sometimes it strikes before my toes reach the crease, but often I manage to get there milli-seconds before - no moments squandered.

…and there are invariably assistants around too…

It is an art I have perfected and justified to myself in various ways over the years, but the truth is that it causes me an immense amount of unnecessary stress, anxiety and regret. It is also this habit of only doing something for which there is a deadline that has impacted on my home and studio - the physical spaces I, and my long-suffering family, inhabit.

As a practising artist I am always simultaneously busy with several projects. Being an interdisciplinary artist, these are invariably projects requiring different sets of materials. The different sets of materials collect and multiply fast. Soon my studio, the table in the living room, the dining room and other spaces are inundated with trays and piles and boxes and machines.

no time to pack away properly

Being an “expert” of working exactly to a deadline means that once it is achieved, there is invariably not time left for tidying and re-ordering materials and packing them away before the social deadline of family Sunday dinner, birthday celebration or Christmas feast looms. The piles and boxes get quickly whisked out of sight under tables and crammed into cupboards or onto my studio table, because the door can be shut. Out of sight, out of mind for the family. Not for me, but that is the subject of another post.

So. Where does this leave us in terms of the holding on to things for “one day”?

Well, on top of being an artist and having this capacity to see the innate potential in so many things that others would discard, I am also a mother. And, I am the descendant of a long line of collectors (read hoarders). This skill of seeing potential and historical interest and value in items is one I have inherited and honed. I never questioned the value of this skill until a few years ago.

this is the book

I was a high school Mathematics teacher and was given a beautiful book of Escher paintings pre-printed onto thick paper to be pressed out and assembled into the Platonic solids and other 3D polyhedra. I had been gifted it to decorate my classroom, but I wanted to wait until we studied them in geometry, so I kept it safe and dust-free in a cupboard. My first year was too busy to assemble them with care, so I decided to wait until the second year. The second year became the third year, then I moved schools and changed to teaching Biology instead, so I carefully stored the book away in a box.

I thought about it over the years - had considered using it for a mobile in my daughter and then my son’s room, but decided to keep it for when they one day studied these 3D shapes in Maths. Then I would bring it out and make this experience so beautiful, real and exciting! The problem was they were at a Waldorf primary school and they had to make and decorate their own shapes, and being pre-printed maybe Escher would be frowned upon.

sometimes the boxes pack themselves…

No, I decided I would keep if for high school, that would be ideal. The problem was, when the high school polyhedra project loomed - the PERFECT opportunity for these beautiful shapes - I could not find the book, anywhere.

I promised myself I would find it the following year for my son. But I missed that opportunity because it was one of the times when the deadline hit the wickets first.

No matter, I reassured myself, I will keep it for the grandchildren. By then something like this will be extraordinary. Who knows, maybe they won’t even be using paper any more?

I found the book a few years later when my husband’s fish tank leaked into a cupboard. The boxes stored there were unpacked and the Escher polyhedra book was one of the ones near the bottom which had got soaked.

damp paper can be beautiful

Now, as a practising artist, I would be able to make something so clever with the soggy, warped pages: a comment on the evanescent, ephemeral, transient nature of time and things. If I had done that, I would have given it a title that would arrest the viewer and invite them to reflect for a moment.

If I had the soggy book, I could have done that.

The book is gone.

I let it go.

I am working hard at rewriting this story.

(I will keep you posted!)

Thanks for being here.

Nicola x

Do you have any stories about holding onto things for too long? Or are you able to release and trust. I would love to hear from you in the comments below.