Packing Art

The realization, last November, that we needed to move from our multi-story, 100-year-old home to a one-level house triggered rigorous study in the current phenomenon of decluttering.

We found new users for Richard’s heavy tools – the table saw with an assortment of blades purchased over decades, a planer, grinder, belt sander, and more. I lost count of the trips to the waste-to-energy site delivering remnants of 40-years of projects that we kept “just in case.” There were also hazardous liquids (turpentine and motor oil) as well as a Maxwell coffee can of 16-ounce lead ingots left over from Dad’s reloading days. But, even after months of work and knowing that all of the sorting and pitching was in preparation for a move, the result of these tasks simply made our First Street house feel more spacious. There was more room in the closets, and the cupboards no longer harbored expired spices. It was not until I took the art off the bedroom walls that the upcoming move felt real.

Having met Richard at an art gallery in June 1981 and with a favorite pastime of visiting galleries, museums, and street fairs, we have a lot of artwork. From lithographs to pastels, from blown glass to hand thrown pottery, our collection is eclectic. While these pieces will never garner millions at Sotheby’s, each offers a story. Our wedding present to ourselves purchased at the Junction City art fair in October 1983; a Murano glass plate – the only souvenir we purchased while on a family trip to Switzerland in September 1991; artwork by friends and Richard’s own creations. With the help of a friend, we will move our collection not chancing any of these beauties to the packers and movers who will pack up our lives in just 10 days.

As I remove these treasures and carefully bubble wrap each one, I remember, with joy, how each piece came to grace our space, making a house a home.

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Artist’s note:  Evening on Twenty-seventh, lithograph 66/100 Larry Welo © 1982