02/19/02 - I’m trying to get out of the clouds and do something that shows some
accomplishment today. However, one must take a break and it was while doing such that I ran across something that seemed write worthy. It’s Page 57 in the March issue of The Atlantic Monthly. The article is called Special Collections - The Warhol Warehouse written by Richard Rubin. Actually the article is only half of Page 57, the other half is a photo by Richard Stonier. Yea, I thought Warhol was cool back in the days. I only saw one of his movies though and that one was very strange and a bit creepy. I can’t remember the
name, but I won’t forget the naked,pregnant druggies. But the article wasn’t about that, and the photo was of rows of brown boxes lined up on warehouse shelving. And that leads me into my something to say about pack rats and the value of our junk. It’s Andy Warhol’s junk lined up in those boxes, all 612 of them. Seems when Andy’s piles got out of control, he’d scoop them up and throw them in a box which he labeled TC (time capsule) and whatever other notation might jog his memory to the contents, such as month/year. Rubin does give us an idea of what’s in a typical box: magazines, newspapers, posters, postcards, letters, notes, invitations (I remember him attending lots of parties), bills, receipts, uncashed checks (?), etc. The article tells us that someday all these boxes will be gone through and catalogued, however only 100 have been done so far. Why is that? Because people have to be hired to do it. I think the fact that you have to pay someone to go through your junk may tend to make it’s importance rating drop, makes the whole collecting thing seem pretty meaningless, charming tidbits of history or not. Who really cares? However, if I do win the lottery one of these days, I think I will volunteer for the job, or at least fund it. And then I think I would get my own warehouse for my collection which would not consist of any uncashed checks.
I did manage to get through a couple of my piles today. I didn’t come across even one tidbit that would be considered TC worthy. Which was why heading back in the clouds felt so much preferable to accomplishing anything. It wasn’t hard to do, I can still hear the bubbles and jets from last weekend’s hot tub experience, can still see the silhouettes of the pine trees in the darkness, still feel the steam upon my face ... tidbits for the memory collection. |
