I have a lot of art work. I love buying street art, as well as folk art and some random thrift store gems. I’ve also been gifted many cool pieces. I have been quite fortunate that way. And, these pieces have traveled far and wide with me. Some have also traveled with me from my trips around the world. I hope to one day pass these onto my son.
Because of said hope, I try to take really good care of the pieces. When I have moved cross country, I have wrapped them with extreme caution. Which is why I am so perplexed lately that so many pieces have broken. Or rather, luckily, it has just been the frames to break.
The other night I was deep in thought when one of my paintings just fell, shattering the glass. It shook me from my contemplations. And, that may have actually been a good thing. It forced me to get up and move away from some toxic communications. It made me focus on cleaning something up that had nothing to do with this topsy turvy world. It may seem odd but the broken frame woke me. I needed that momentary bit of being stirred.
Wherevam I going with this? These days we actually need to think of how we break things. Specifically, if it wasn’t working before all this craziness, leave it behind. While my broken frames are probably the result of slamming my doors too hard or not tightly hammering in the hooks, I still find it meaningful. It’s what I do. I find odd meaning in strange places. Allow yourself to be moved. Don’t stay rooted in what is broken. I say just break further and create a new frame.