I have an issue with things. There are far too many of them. We have things everywhere, inside and out, up and down, sometimes upside down and rarely right-side up when we need them to be. Rarely what’s needed, though. Rarely what is most useful. Almost always what’s imminently disposable, replaceable, land-fillable.
Too much, too often, too close, and not far enough away, by any means. Away with things!
So how did this happen, this being overwhelmed by “stuff”? Long, long ago, in a land, far, far away — unless, of course, you actually live there — we started producing stuff for “the markets,” and soon enough those markets dominated us, everything about us; followed us everywhere too, and oh-so impersonally. They decided for us what would be produced and consumed, how, when, why, where, and for how much, and so on. Instead of doing things in the old way, based on need and usefulness in the here and now, for ourselves, our families, our neighbors, we started producing for the unknown, the main chance, the maybe-we-hope-someday. Over there, somewhere. And never with any rhyme or reason based on the needs of our own households, or our family and friends, but on what the future might bring, and no longer with ourselves at the helm, but big shots in suits instead.
Our ancient local markets fell to “the market,” and we went from C-M-C and use-value to M-C-M and exchange-value, and more stuff was made than anyone could ever afford to buy, and most of it was and still is entirely useless . . .
And on that happy note, I present a few timeless images of love and beauty and fresh baked apple pie off-off canvas. As in, unless you have quite the imagination, or serious “issues,” there are no apple pies in the following paintings, at least none with strong, sweet smells.