When I was younger, I hated clutter. The only things that used to be on my bookshelves and entertainment center, beside books and electronics, were frames containing pictures of me with my family and loved ones. Other than that, I had really no use for chachkies and other “dust collectors”. I collected plenty of stuff, but they were put away in memory boxes and scrapbooks.
My dad was always the opposite. He collected everything- from books to new papers clippings of something that interested him, to little toy figurines, to boxes, stamps and notebooks, he collected it all. His home office was filled with stuff he collected from every place and in every size, shape and form. It was a bit annoying at the time for me, I admit it. I just couldn’t see any beauty in all that “junk”.
Fast forward a couple of decades and you find me collecting and displaying all manners of collectibles- post cards from Paris, ornate wooden cigar boxes (which hold even more chachkies), old journals, new journals, macaron boxes, and anything else that succeeds in stirring my creative juices. I think I’ve finally understood my dad and his habit of collecting and displaying everything. Every object conjures some idea, gets the imagination going, brings back a fond memory, stirs the spirit, and helps one to get in touch with the creative side of life. That must have been what led Dad, who was very talented and quite creative, to collect and display all that “junk”.
I now have a name for all that “junk”: a cornucopia of creativity.
My shelves might look messy and unruly these days. They might be busy with a bunch of seemingly unrelated objects. But, this creative chaos inspires me to imagine, to devise, and to create. This creative chaos takes me to my favorite places, times and people. This creative chaos feeds the visionary in me, and gives me fuel to get in touch with my artistic eye and sensibilities. Most important of all, this creative chaos allows me to visit my dad, if only in my imagination
I am my dad’s daughter.