i was looking around my apartment and noticing the things i keep around.
the dresses piled up high on the couch that i’m trying to figure out which to keep or not to keep (some were just on the floor and are definately keepers). the top 2 i’ve had for at least 5 years. the red polka dots i wore to college friend’s zeth & michelle’s wedding when we were 23 (7 years).
memories of sitting on bales of hay in northern minnesota, frisbee throwing, chair dancing, our first college reunion, arugula pesto, a slip & slide, playfulness, young uncertain moves… the girls coming from nyc, seattle, boston, moline, oakland. all the girls back together. and the boys, too.
the 2nd dress is from a mural awareness benefit i went to for work years ago. came back to my shared apartment to a crazy wig party in our smushed way up in the trees apartment. lots of boys in wigs. lots of wigs kissing.
the 3rd is betsey johnson and a splurge. i wore it for jessie’s 25th birthday celebration at the liberty’s. her parents dressed in matching tuxes. love that.
i need some rules for myself. generally i hang onto things when they are special: given to me by my mom or anyone else important, antique, expensive for me or have huge mems associated… i am overly sentimental. nostalgic.
should i make them into pillows? quilts?
should i sell? consignment? yardsale? clothing swap? e-bay. store away?
try to wear again. the guilty tugs of clothes unworn.
see how it happens.
they just sit there, bits of memories, layered.
i have been painting patterns lately. i think they have to do with memories. but also newly created patterns that are pretty psychedelic and from my own head. sometimes i silk-screen patterns from dresses, but it feels better to create adaptations of my own patterns. more authentic. more my own story.
i want to read more about quilting. the quilting bees. bees gees. community. re-using memories practically. i don’t have the patience to quilt myself. rather, i want to use paint to make my dream quilt. layer upon layer upon layer of smooth paint. messy. unruly quilts. create my own beautiful reality. i think that is why we make art. i think i’m borrowing a quote embedded in a memory.
another thought: pattern also organizes the chaos of our messy lives. is it not true?