Treasure

I am ridiculously sentimental. That statement comes as no surprise to anyone that knows me or to those that are familiar with my masters project but I do sometimes surprise myself with the value I attribute to seemingly worthless objects. I have of course spoken about this at length, it is in part the basis for my entire project, my report contains an entire section investigating my attachment to a bus ticket. But those are objects from my history, ones that help keep the memory of those that I have lost alive, connect me to happy times or represent important milestones in my life.

For the last fifteen years I have carried a scrap of blue paper in my wallet scribbled with the telephone number of my husband. The scrap that he had carried round in his own wallet for a week in the place that we then worked, because he was too nervous to ask me out and was presented to me, only when I approached him to enquire if he was ever going to do so.

I have spent hours of my life contemplating the dilemma of whether I should find a safer place to store this scrap, worrying about it’s loss should I ever get mugged. Weighing up the comfort its presence brings to me against the impact of this imagined future crime.

The latest addition to my collection of treasure are the A4 print outs blue tacked to the wall of my workspace since the start of my masters project. I finally took them down last week, a task that I was amazed to discover made me feel incredibly sad. I have often joked that in lieu of any actual work, displayed in my space I would keep them up to the end, a homage to the beginnings of my project, saying they have been up so long, it would be a shame to remove them, but it turns out I was deadly serious. Those faded prints, earmarked for the bin have become something of value in their own right.

When I think back to the day I selected the imagery that would accompany my very first presentation on the course, I remember feeling so unsure of myself. I knew what my interests were but could not imagine what form they would take creatively. I looked everywhere for inspiration, visiting countless exhibitions, historical sites and reading every fashion book I could get my hands on, desperately seeking that spark that would provide a clear goal for me to work towards. None of that was a waste, aside from the fact that they are all activities I enjoy, I gained so much from my research but when I look at those initial images, I am now so aware that the inspiration I was looking for was right under my nose and I find that intensely frustrating. It is however just the way my brain seems to work, and as I’m beginning to realise just part of my creative process. I cast my net wide in order to contextualise and stimulate what is already there. That may sound obvious but to me it is a revelation and one that I hope in future will help offer the reassurance that the pieces always fall into place. Perhaps this understanding could alleviate the anxiety that always accompanies the initial stages of a project before full blown blank page syndrome takes hold.

As I look at my A4 prints now, scattered around my living room floor I am aware that they represent the seeds and evolution of my masters project. Each image tells its own story, reminding me of its significance, I remember why and when I selected them, the feeling of discovering a Rossetti in someone’s living room and how it shaped my thinking, the joy of unboxing childhood toys and giving them new purpose, the attachment it is possible to feel for a googly eyed prosecco cork.

Like the very items that helped inspire my masters these prints will be added to my collection of treasure, a future reminder to connect me to this moment in time, as I near the end of the course. I know one day I will look at them and wish with my whole being that I could go back and experience it all again as I do with so many of my mementos, and with that in mind I shall try to cherish the time I have left. At least as much as in impending deadline and a never ending to do list will allow.