Prints are often treated as the lesser sibling of original art. I can only imagine that in high school the words “copy” were etched into Print’s locker and the gossip around the cafeteria was that Print was a fraud. Like a lot of high bullying there’s a smattering of truth to what’s being said (“Tiina’s a dork”) but reality has been twisted with the goal of making us feel lesser than. In fact, the very reason we’re ostracized also makes us unique. Be it in prolific fan fiction writing or the fact that having numerous duplications of our work allows to communicate our message to a larger group. There’s nothing wrong in being a copy, as long as you have something important to say. We took the long way around but you’ve guessed it: we’re at the Affordable Art Series, Prints Edition. Time to show these facsimiles some love.
I’m always curious about other people’s homes. If you think clothing says a lot about a person then you should definitely check out their closet. Is there a vintage silk robe elegantly draped over a full length mirror or an indiscernible pile of yesterdays cast offs? Either way it says a lot. All New Yorkers are obsessed with real estate (#facts) so it only makes sense that we’d like a peek into each other’s spaces. As far as I’m concerned voyeurism is a trait that all New Yorkers share. What other excuse do we have for living in such close quarters?
I love looking through other peoples trash. It can be furniture thats been curbed, the free tag on Craigslist, or a dollar bin at a thrift store. The very fact that someone chose and purchased these items and later discarded them carries a lot of weight for me. Something changed in the eye of the beholder and we’re generally talking taste rather than function. We’re all guilty of saying that something is a “forever piece” and using that rational for making a hefty purchase, but the truth is that very little of what we purchase ends up sticking around forever. We divorce people and while people are not objects (#slavery), it seems that objects aren’t treated all that differently than people. Still, I love things a little bit more when there’s some baggage attached and I know I’m not alone. If you’re in New York and also addicted to trolling stoop sales for the perfect find then oh boy, do I have a treat for you. It’s called the Bellmore Flea Market.
The women in my life have always given me advice. Check your blind spot, don’t put out on the first date, and never put tomatoes in the refrigerator. We are practical people. Used to taking care of others and protecting ourselves from danger. Not to mention making sure our produce stays fresh as long as possible. As we get older we put these lessons to use and dole out advice to others. We become mothers constantly bathing children while neglecting our own bodies. Employees that tell others to take time for themselves while measuring ourselves against a higher standard. Mindless internet drones that spend time lusting over others’ possessions, bodies, and lifestyles while forgetting to relish our own gifts. Not today ladies.
As a mental health practitioner I spend a lot of time preaching. Take your medicine, go to groups, and don’t miss your appointments. Funny thing is I’m pretty bad at all three. Masters degree or not we’re all pretty good and giving advice and pretty bad at taking our own. The long and short of it? Self care is hard.
A friend of mine recently brought to my attention the concept of Boring Self Care. Essentially the idea is giving ourselves a well deserved pat on the back for completing simple yet often neglected tasks. It might sound stupid but on a daily basis I watch people neglect their hygiene, disconnect from society, and be unable verbalize what they need to feel better. You might not have a chronic illness but I can assure you, you probably have shitty self care from time to time.