Art

I think I need a warehouse. Over the years, my artwork has multiplied to the point where I don't know what to do with all of it. The compulsion to make more doesn't end, so eventually I expect to be overtaken completely by an assortment of good art, mediocre art, and bad art. I can see myself becoming an eccentric old lady whose collection is so prolific that there is only a narrow path, surrounded by stacks of paintings and drawings, through the house. It really does get to the point where it is overwhelming because as one ages, the desire to free oneself from material objects becomes very attractive. Thus, an interior conflict arises. Throwing out or getting rid of my artwork is something akin to getting rid of my children, and I could never have done that.

I suppose, however, I should sort through it all and make the arbitrary decisions about what is worth keeping and what is not.