As I sit stiffly this morning, reflecting on the overwhelming weight of these things and the strain it put on my bod just to get the seventeen steel units to the curb, where they sat out overnight, I both scratch my head in curiosity, but feel giddy like a five year old in a candy shop. Glittering, lovely glass images that can be projected in full beauty on a bare wall. The way we learned for so many generations. Maybe in a generation or two they might have value, but then again, maybe they won't. This is the art slide collection of the Art Department of Wellesly College (I wrote about it over the weekend.) The recycle center where these ended up said there were a lot more, but have been taken. I can only imagine the size and depth of their collection, if I "rescued" only a portion. Some slides are in approximate order, others are all mixed up. I spent a few hours last night looking through them...and...learning. That is the best part.
This collection is like one big art book! With 25,000 pages, and even more stories to tell. It is the reverse of the Internet -- instead of finding whatever *might* be available online, often in sound-bite depth and complete with copyright exclusions, art experts teaching college level courses assembled these collections. Every slide is carefully labelled, and many bear the source of the image or slide. It is amazing what I've seen so far. This IS history. And it is beautiful treasure.
When I got to the recycle center for the second carload of cabinets, I was told there were lots of extra slides from the collection in shoeboxes. Someone was looking at them and discussing how they were going to hot glue them together and make a dress. I shuddered. Into the cart went the seventeen shoe boxes. I had to become a member of the recycle center, which I did not expect to have to do, but overall I think it is worth it in the long run.
A good link today from the Creativity Post on what it takes to be creative -- how it is more than just endurance. Or practice. How it is messy. How it involves following the uncertain road and combining previously unassociated paths. The post articulates the difference for me between art forms that require replication and art forms that require invention. Very relevant -- who knows what one of these images can spark for me artistically?
I remember a long time ago I spent what was a fortune for me on an art book, and how I came home and showed it to my mother and told her how bad I felt because it was so expensive. She told me that I should never feel that way -- that you can't put a price on learning, and if a book is important to that learning, it is never a waste. I still remember that conversation clearly and treasure it. Once something is learned, it can't be taken away. Who knows how these images can be shared and teach people, now that they have been salvaged from a junk heap? So, this crazy, heavy lot of slides (about the same price as that book from 25 years ago) will teach me things I otherwise never would have known. I will consider it a Mother's Day gift from my pets. Justification is everything.
Hapi greeted me this morning with the sweetest, softest chirp of a song bird he must have heard outside. As I scratched his head, he repeated it several times and I thought I had a sparrow in the room. Then he yelled "OKAY! ALRIGHT! TOAST!" and I knew I had to move along. Sigh. I think caring for this brood is worth a little educational treat, even if it weighs more than my car. They are tough customers. Cheers!