Anyone else watch Cougar Town? Describing my serendipity, the "old-new-old," made me think of Jules and her bath-shower-bath.
Some of you know my boo-hoo undergrad story: I did my undergrad (BAs in Art and Slavic Lang + Lit) in France. After graduation I moved into my to-die-for French boyfriend's shoebox swoon-worthy Parisian apartment; while the walls were covered by (mostly) my paintings and drawings, there were still gobs of my artwork for which we had no room. I had a fantastic but not well-paying job as a gardener at an artist's museum, so I scrimped and saved and had the bulk of my art (paintings, drawings and sculptures) sent via container to my parents' California house. I had run it by them and received their permission.
Evidently just about as soon as the crate arrived my mother called Goodwill and had them come tout de suite to pick it all up. It seems my mother had changed her mind but hadn't thought to tell me. A year or so later when I came back to the US (en route to Viet Nam) and learned this, I am telling you the floor disappeared from beneath my feet. I was in shock, and twenty years later I am still absolutely nonplussed by her behavior.
So whatever: art gone, forever. It was still in my head and heart, and my hands had made it. I tried to be pragmatic and with time and, truthfully, the birth of my children, the importance faded. I no longer miss the art, not at all.
But you know what I'd also thought were gone? All the African bibelots I'd swindled in the Marche Barbes and other marche aux puces. I guess because I'd lived with them sooo briefly and, let's face it, I hadn't made them, I didn't feel their loss as acutely.
Fast forward to February, 2012: a good-sized box arrived, return address from my father (my parents, but it was he who'd sent it). Guess what was in it? Many of my French-African artifacts! There was my crusty Makonde fertility body mask with its gorgeous pendulous breasts and swollen tummy, two beaded Yoruba diviners' belts -- one of which has tribal faces and amphibians in puffy, beaded 3D glory (and which I cannot wait to wear!), a mostly orange with jingle bells Yoruba money tree, and two insane, over-the-top Yoruba beaded crowns -- they are freaking fantastic!
I'm telling you it was like Christmas. I'd never lived with any of these treasures, really, but I knew them. Unpacking that box was pure nostalgia.
So these goodies are old, were new to me, but now are old to me.
I'm still not quite sure what initially happened, why these hadn't been disposed of with the rest back in the '90s, however a worker at my parents' beach house came across a box with my name on it and asked my father about it. He just had them package everything up and send it to me. There is no doubt in my mind if they'd asked my mother it would have been Goodwill pt ii.
No, the boyfriend wasn't also in the box, and I looked! Shortly after I left France he took his orders and became a priest (that was pretty much why we'd broken up -- he was a serious Catholic and I was a serious atheist, and I neither could nor would agree to raise children Catholic -- it was v. amicable and v. sad, luckily I was young and adventurous). But I'll tell you this: seeing these goodies I'd purchased with him in my life has given me some impure thoughts. Thank goodness I never did convert or I'd have beaucoup explaining to do ... ahem.
One of the crowns I placed on one of the fuchsia side tables in the living room; the money tree is on the other fuchsia table. I need to figure out where in the den to hang the almost life-sized mask. I may suspend one of the crowns from the ceiling in a child's room -- the crown is covered in beaded birds -- amazing!
Their resurgence inspired me to go through just a few boxes in the basement (notice I wrote "just a few" -- I'm not stalwart enough for the rest!) and I uncovered many delicious montagnard and Hill Tribe textiles I collected while down in Viet Nam / Laos / Thailand and folkloric painted treasures collected from demolished izbas outside Moscow (where I lived after Viet Nam). Bringing them upstairs and thinking about what to do with them feels both fresh and also nostalgic. It's an interesting frame of mind.
No one, and I mean truly aucune personne in my immediate vicinity would understand the joy of seeing decorative items once again, yet for the past few days I have been bursting with excitement and a bit of dread due to needing to tidy up to find homes for the new toys. I knew you all would understand and be excited for me. Thanks for letting me share!
xo
mtnrdredux_gw
SharonaZamboni
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