I find arts are deeply personal and are therefore a subject of preference. Now and again I’m awed to discover not everyone likes _____________ — twinkly lights, doors, Shakespeare! I’m frequently mistaken in assuming there are certain things we all agree on, a canon of arts so to speak, and despite the fact that my mother taught me the dangers of assumption long ago, despite the fact that I don’t understand the hype over Harry Potter, Thomas Kinkade, or Elvis, I’ve yet to learn.
A friend of mine once photographed all her objets, typing out their origins and sentimental value, a kind of inventory of the things one carries, if you will. If your things don’t have stories, why do you still carry them? If they have stories, why wouldn’t you share them?
We all do like a good story, RIGHT?!?