As I was going through some things to give away in an attempt to become more mobile and lighten my footprint, I came across a portrait of Kurt Cobain printed wall size on a piece of silk. This image was one of my favorite portraits of all time. His angst could easily be seen in his eyes, and his hair fell just in the right spots to solicit a “god, he is handsome” comment when people looked into his larger than life-size soulful eyes.
Many a day did I look at this lovely item and wonder how the photographer felt as s/he captured this image, and how Kurt felt at this time to be so sought after and his privacy so frequently invaded and tampered with. I loved that the image had been printed in Italy, on a fine piece of silk. I had visions of printing some of my own portraits on this same kind of silk and hanging them under the rafters of the Burnside Bridge next to my studio, creating a pop-up outdoor exhibit, with faces freely flowing here and there per the wind ’s whim.
Really? Do I need to keep this now? What if someone else loves Kurt Cobain’s image more than I do? I turned to my computer and posted an image of the treasure on Facebook and asked if anyone wanted it. The first person to respond was my friend Ankitt, a guide I met in India on a Mercy Corps donor trip when I first landed in New Delhi almost ten years ago. I instantly felt good about giving this to him and after asking for his address, I placed it in the post to him.
This action sparked a flow of what I am referring to simply as the “Give Away Project”. As my day moves along, if I see something that is valuable to me, but it is not getting the love or use or attention it deserves, why not post it to the friendship universe and see who would like it? For free. No expectations for anything in return.
This process has been incredibly joyful. I love to see the random surprise of who wants what. From professional camera gear to red hot high heels to leather postal bags, there goes pieces of me and I am thrilled to discover who will be the new recipient.
I have had numerous calls, messages and texts from concerned friends and family asking if I was ok. Some people thought I was planning to kill myself. Others thought I was moving to Africa full-time. Some knew exactly what I was doing right away and applauded the effort.
What does it truly mean to give something up? To grieve its loss, to know you might never see the item or person again? I often wonder why we hold on to things, and even more so to people: do we hold on more tightly when someone wants to grow? Does the act of holding on to things prevent us from growing? A wise Ethiopian friend of mine told me today that when just even a small amount of pain is present when giving, then we are truly giving. Most often we are simply discarding, rather than truly giving.
In Africa and other nations that are not focused on the constant acquisitions of goods, people can live happily with a few pieces of clothing, one pair of shoes, and a coat. They live in small spaces and focus more on gardens, kitchens, animals, caring for each other, building community, music and dance.
I cherish my time when I am visiting these countries, and often feel forlorn immediately upon returning home when I witness our thirst for the accumulation of goods. I miss the freedom to move about without continuous cleaning, organizing, and shuffling of things, and the necessity to own a house that can store all of these things.
So now I wish to see what will happen when I pass along items that are no longer of frequent use or an inspiration to me, but understandably might be to others.
I might be wrong, but I believe something will happen. With a lighter step and having less material goods, it just might be that I will be one of those faces flowing freely here and there per the wind’s whim.
