Then the family storage container was getting cleaned out and sold last weekend. I had quite a lot of stuff in there, as it turns out. We had to make decisions about what to keep and what to chuck. The kids got a bit freaked out about Sam ripping the canvases off the stretcher bars. Charlie cried, Cleo went very quiet. I had to act brave, for their sakes. Some of these paintings are really old, from art school, but I've still got this idea that because they are PAINTINGS they have intrinsic value and have to be carted round everywhere. Not that I look after them very well. Some of them were quite moldy.
But they didn't look any good. That was the shocking thing, how bad they are. Even though none of the ones post art school were ever meant as autonomous works of art - they were always part of something - I look at them now and am really disappointed that they aren't good paintings. How long am I going to keep them? Garage sale this Sunday. Maybe I'll put a few out, just to see how they go.
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