I have the most peculiar energy that descends, more often than not it is right before my period. I have had this for as long as I can remember. It hits pretty hard about every three or four months: I have this need to clean and rid myself of anything that is just sitting around. Since I have left my 'home' in Arizona and been less beholden to material possession due to the nature of my living situations there has been less to get rid of or clean, so I found myself getting rid of other peoples shit. Yes, I have actually spent quality time, sometimes lasting up to a few weeks getting rid of other people's junk and organizing everything that isn't bolted down. I suppose if I lived in a bigger city I could make a living doing that but I don't really want to throw myself into constantly going through dirt and clutter. It's pretty exhausting and only feels good when I can do it as the urge hits.
That leaves my art. Last night I disassembled a piece. I was going to do the same to another piece and my roommate decided he wanted to buy it instead. I have a few more in mind today, whether I actually will do it remains to be seen. I also start going through all the scrap and baubles and feeling trapped by everything. Nothing is safe when this mood hits. I try to steer the energy into other directions, but like a junkie needing a fix the only thing that goes straight through the veins and gives pleasure is having LESS.
It sometimes causes me conflict when I think about being 'an artist' and how I'm supposed to have a body of work to lug with me here and there to have something to show for myself; that just doesn't appeal to me whatsoever, I guess I get a 'F' for fitting in with the norm. I don't need to be a gallery superstar or even a gallery favorite, in fact I'd rather bypass the gallery thing altogether. I just want to sell what I make and be able to keep making more without having it pile up and drag me down for years to come. I am not attached to anything I have made, that doesn't mean I do not derive pleasure or even awe from it, but I didn't make it so I could just gawk at it. I made it to express myself and to send it out there into the world. It could be a long day.
Hours later I'm suddenly reminded of my aunt who used to rearrange her entire house seemingly every few months. Whenever I smell mothballs I think of her as she diligently cleaned and had everything tucked away in its proper place in closets. Then I think of another aunt (they were sisters), she and her husband moved no less than 23 times in the same twin city area of a small town, I gave up keeping track years ago. There must be some genetic defect having to do with obsessive environment purging in my lineage.