Monday, March 05, 2007

Wanna Make Somethin' Out Of It?

I can't help myself. If I come across an ordinary object that looks like it could possibly become something artistic, I'll pocket it, horde it, store it, keep it and hide it like treasure. Some time ago I found a southwestern looking button on the floor of the dressing room, and to me, it was like finding a missing puzzle piece. I was thrilled. Last week while changing the roll of paper on the office adding machine, here in my hand was the perfect plastic circular donut thingy. It's still in my purse and now I have several. The other morning, I had a pile of blank cardboard cards on my table. My son decided to "test" out his pen to make sure it wrote on one of the paper cards. I gasped and became a bit offended at this thoughtless act. "Hey!" I exclaimed. "What are you doing?" He looked at me pathetically which basically told me to get a grip. I rushed in and said, "But I'm gonna make somethin' out of it!" My new phrase for the week and my lifetime mantra.

I once carried around a ziploc bag of at least 40 round metal frozen juice lids. The family was in turmoil over it. I don't know why. To me they were the perfect size, shape and surface for all sorts of things. I was gonna make somethin' out of it! I was down to about 30 and I finally recycled them out of my life. I have one boot box designated just for paper scraps. I've had it growing for over 10 years. I love paper and cardboard. I brought home a rather large piece of cardboard that took up the entire backseat of my car. I slid it between the wall and my dresser and envisioned myself freely composing a huge collage or painting. After several months of threats and complaints, my husband adopted my prize as the perfect surface to lay on as he changed the oil in my car.

Looking around I still possess plenty of inspiring trash to treasure findings and trinkets to keep me enchanted. Some of my finds are disguised as books ready to be torn apart to tell a more outlandish tale with paint, glue, beads and shiny things. I've learned that if I can't hide it behind my back, it'll never make it past the glare of space control. From now on I'll try to refrain from taking home styrofoam packing sculptures in the shape of what could be my next expressive adventure. My bursts of "I'm gonna make somethin' out of it!" will need to be replaced with "Ya wanna make somethin' out of it?" GRUNT!

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