By Way of Painting Backwards Forwards
I suppose it started by way of an incidental phone call, if there is such a thing, to my brother who lives in Texas. “What’s up?” Never one to mince words, he replies, “Just clearing out the attic and trying to get rid of some old stuff.” It strikes me as strange he saw this as a viable vocation, since that’s what attics are intended for-storing old stuff, stuff that you go through every five years or so as in the way one might visit a graveyard.
“Like what?” I asked. “Just old photos of people we don’t know. “Like relatives? You’re throwing away family portraits?” “Well not exactly, I don’t know who any of these people are.” I can’t imagine my mother saved pictures of strangers. ( Collapse )