I am organized, but not obsessive. Get get intense about something. And then it’s put away “for another day.” I’m working on our “stuff” this week, preparing for another round of “tidying up” — a.k.a. selling off. I have a square, metal-mesh file box (image above) full of folders labeled “to do,” all about Jim’s collections — which seem to multiply, even though he stopped collecting in 2002.
I’m also trying to gather documentation of Jim’s “public treasures” — items that have enjoyed exhibition in museums or galleries. Sifting through the file box today, I found this: the paperwork from an exhibit at the Memorial Art Gallery, here in Rochester.
How odd that I have no memory of this. I had to figure out what “statue of Vishnu” they were referring to. It was this (image below), sitting on a bottom shelf downstairs in the sanctuary.
1999. My head was far up the ass of corporate not-for-profitdom, losing sleep over the world not changing as fast as I needed it too. I was a 51-year-old athiest suffering from night sweats. Vishnu was Jim’s thing. I have no memory of this exhibit. And sadly, I must not have shared in the eloquence it imparted to the exhibit attendees.
Having semi-organized boxes of old files can be a gift to yourself. Who the hell was I 20 years ago? Wine poured.