I thought I would give you a tour of my basement where all the crap I own is stored. Within the last year or two I moved 6,000 mystery novels out of my basement to make room for my new obsession,
buying stuff making art!
I do have to admit that a huge part of the fun of being a found object artist is finding the stuff. I now hunt relentlessly through estate sales, flea markets and auctions for stuff. And then I buy more stuff. Seriously, some day I will use all this stuff for something, I promise.
Here is the view to the west where I have my Wall of Weird, or most of the art that I have made. I mounted this pegboard specifically for this and also use the stairway down to the basement as a self-aggrandizing gallery of my ego.
Here is the view to the south showing my work table, saw and the best thing I ever got at a rummage sale for $30--a working drill press!!!!
This is the view to the east which shows a portion of the crap that now fills my basement to the rafters. Before you ask, the underwear is a gift from my mother's travels down south: they are a hillbilly briefcase.
Here is a view to the north showing storage for more of my art and, well--more crap. This is the end of the basement that is filled with every kind of container you can imagine in my (so far) failed attempt to do a Joseph Cornell inspired work.
Excess is an occurrence and Denice has convinced me that at this time in my life I may have enough typewriters. P. S.: The reason there are so many here is that the act of taking one apart, which initially seemed so appealing, now strikes fear into my heart.
While I tried to put things where they belong (after all, I am a librarian), occasionally things begin to look like a natural disaster has struck. Today was cleaning day and after these photos all was set right (yeah, right).
Yes, I am the King of Junk and you have just been to my Crapitol.