scijessreads

There are days when I wish I had the money and the desire to be an “art collector.” Personally, I love the arts (music, books, etc.) and I like to dabble on my own time as a form of stress relief. But I don’t pretend that I am an artist at all, just someone who can appreciate the time and the love that goes into creating something.

Over the years, the art that I have managed to bring into my home has been somewhat random. I have a print on thin cork/bark that was a gift to my parents back when they got married. My dad made the chunky frame himself. It is of workers in a field and was brought back to them by a friend from Mexico. Growing up, it was always hanging in the living room by my dad’s recliner. When my mom finally retired and they permanently moved to the cabin, she started clearing out things and paring down what they kept. The painting made its way home with me earlier than expected (there are a few things that I said I wanted my mom to never get rid of, and this was one of them. I think the last things they still have that will eventually come with me are two hurricane lanterns).

Another drawing that I have was a gift from my mom, as was done by her cousin. Erika is an art professor and artist, and the drawing is of a woman crouched by water. It reminded my mom of me, and I love it. It is simple, and yet you can read into it practically anything.

The two wood-framed paintings of farmhouses hung for years in my grandparent’s home. They are by a North Dakota artist (my dad’s side of the family is from North Dakota). Years ago when I was in kindergarten, we had a family reunion in North Dakota, and I saw actual farmhouses that were like those in the paintings. When my grandparents died, these went to my mom and dad first. And again, when mom retired she asked what I wanted to take and I asked for these. They were always on the wall at my grandparent’s home when I was growing up, and they hold good memories.

The red and black print on woven paper was a grad school graduation gift from another grad student. She brought it back from her trip home to Nepal. I may not keep in touch with her anymore, but that print has traveled with me and will always have a place in my home.

The final image is a big, mass-produced print on particle board. I saved it from a discard pile at a previous apartment complex. Honestly, the image spoke to me. I loved the colors, the feminine image, and the abstract nature of it. I can’t explain any of it, I just love it and will lug it in all its giant glory to every home from now on.

Art is personal. It speaks to memories and moments in time. And these are the pieces that I have brought home that mean the most to me.

Do you have a piece of art that speaks to you? Or one that you want to own in the future?