My art space is overflowing with materials.
I was in no way, shape or form, prepared for the massive influx of goods from The Great Taj. Once I started picking from there each night, I really couldn’t control myself. Still in the heat of summer, my little space under the bridge was warm enough, but now it’s positively roasting with all the extra materials cladding the walls.
I’ve heard that this is a problem that faces many great artists at some point in their working lives. After 10 or 15 years or so of producing work, especially sculpture, the amount they sell becomes disproportionate to the amount they produce. I tend to produce anywhere between 5 and 10 pieces of sculpture a week, recently I’ve only been selling a few a month (which is why a few of my most treasure items are now on sale at a reduced price!) so now I have somewhat of a surplus of stock.
I can deal with being surrounded by mountains of quirky re-purposed art, but with the amount of carpets, cutlery, crockery and general paperwork that I’ve been reclaiming from The Great Taj – I’m struggling to get in and out of the place without causing a major avalanche.
On Wednesday evenings, I watch television through other people’s windows. This may sound slightly strange, but as long as the show that’s being watched is absolutely riveting, the owners of the home and television are none the wiser – and I can enjoy an hour or two of visual entertainment. It just so happens that a show I was watching, through the Davies’ window the other day, featured a self-styled decluttering guru showing the public how to organise their lives.
Through the double-glazed windows and the net curtains, I could just about make out the figure of a woman gesticulating at a mess of objects in the corner of a room.
She fervently pointed at the camera and seemed very disapproving of a man’s kitchen – it’s a shame I couldn’t hear any of her advice.
For the past month, the Davies’ have had a deaf relative staying with them, so I’ve been able to peek through the curtains and know exactly what’s been going on, thanks to the big multi-coloured subtitles that covered the bottom quarter of the screen. However, it would appear that Penny and her broken ears had left, along with her bright spectrum of helpful on-screen letters.
Just before the show ended, a website was flashed up on the screen. I doubt I’ll ever have the scratch to hire a professional organiser, but if you do then at least you’ll know where to go!