L.A. Investigations

When I was a wee lass, my father was dividing his time between Los Angeles (family and hearth) and New York (work and playland). When they decided we were old enough, my parents planned a New York trip for my brother and I. First flier wings pinned to our shirts, we arrived at JFK airport ready to be amazed by all the state had to offer. And I was amazed, mostly by my dad's friend's medium sized curio cabinet which hung on her kitchen wall, filled to overflowing with tiny ceramic objects. Though I remember there being a variety of objects all I can clearly recall were the Beatrix Potter bunnies. I thought the entire exhibit was a glory unto the Lord of all things great and small. After our visit to the Empire State Building, I selected a bronze miniature of the building boasting a small thermometer on its front. It was to be the first piece in my own collection of strange and/or adorable objects. I was going to house a Cabinet of Wonders, by Jove!

Turns out I'm not a very good collector. I think the earth in my parent's backyard is still populated with funereal treasure chests. My next door neighbor and I liked to gather things up and bury them. The first and only desk set I've ever owned came with a small bookshelf, and that I filled with objects intended to be the beginning of my collection - a crystal decanter my father won in a golf tournament, a wooden jack-in-the-box and pewter penguin given to me by my mother's boss before he died, a painted metal sculpture of a carousel horse and the bronze Empire State Building to start. A few ceramic pigs got added. In college some ceramic coins an acquaintance made were included. I moved around and things were boxed or tossed. Curios were acquired and discarded, traded up or lost. My interest and enthusiasm in most things wanes and returns with ferocious intensity...wanes...returns... The only object that remains from my youth is the thermometer. If I'm ever crazy and homeless, I'll still have that in possession; I'll town cry the temperature every morning, noon and night just to pass the time.

I'm torn between wanting to collect material objects - real love for the thing itself, just happy it exists in the world. My own personal relics. I pretend write imaginary wills and bequeath Sophia's painting to Alli, my photographs to my parents, old love letters returned to my first boyfriend, etc. I'm divided: trash everything or curate my own little museum of delights. My very own post-apocalyptic dream museum just like The Museum of Jurassic Technology.

My wanderlust is countered by my need to feel at home someplace, and ownership of sentimental items is the twine and hair and bone of my nest. The home itself being rented, I try to fill it with permanence.

Now I'm in my 30s, the sorts of things I like to surround myself with are usually found objects, funny art, things given to me by my loved ones and objects that serve a purpose. Stripping things down so that individual pieces are given more attention and focus. I thought I'd given up wanting elaborate knick knack collection, especially figurines, when I came across Shary Boyle's beautiful, strange, lovely and horrific curio creations, I felt the old want pressing against my chess. I don't just want these; I wish I made them.