The fine art of hoarding

I am afraid no weighty issues of personal mind games has caused my stuff to accumulate, rather I paint more than what sells. Sure my stuff may not be good enough to sell and that would relieve me of any trepidations that I was just too damn lazy marketing my stuff. I would rather paint than go through the carnival junk of selling by spotting and manipulating some customer’s emotional imbalance that can be righted with the purchase of my Fine Art Work proving to the world they are sophisticated and discriminating citizens while giving them a daily metaphysical boost by simply being quiet and reflecting on my work they have hung on their wall.

The last three lines of esoterica illustrate my ex boyfriend who, in my view, was a brilliant printmaker but who just didn’t believe this or in himself. Painful to watch! I reject the Burchill comment though: in all the severe hoarders I know, all did so that “no one can take this away from me”. While I appreciate your personal comment on hoarding, it is actually very distressing for all parties exposed to it. My father in law hoarded in the last years of his life. It took several men and 3 weeks to clear his house…very traumatic.ui

Alas, like your chestnut collection I had a magnificent marble collection of which I was most proud. Today they’re all gone and I don’t really miss them that much but I’m most curious to know exactly when I lost my marbles…….

Yes but, No but… When does “collecting” count as hoarding. I collect images that trigger some idea in my head. I collect articles that deal with issues that I feel might impinge on my way of thinking. I save notes that I’ve made. I keep a journal. I save found objects that might one day turn into great bricolage. I have a library. On the other hand my late father was terrified that I might die before him and he’d have to clean the house out. I accept the possible borderlines of OCD and try to justify it all as creativity. I’m not sure the family agree.

Bad paintings I have kept are used as panels to be painted over and hopefully something better will evolve. Sometimes it takes longer to realize it is a piece of s___. My greatest sin is hoarding art supplies in various media. I also tend to fill every flat surface with art works in the process, referral art books, and the materials being currently used. Periodically I do go through my bin where old lithographs, woodcuts, etchings are stored. Any with physical damage are routinely scrapped.

I am guilty of hoarding my own art. I price my pieces purposely high because I really don’t want to sell them; they contain a large piece of me. I have trouble parting with them because I am sometimes not sure that I can even replicate them; can I go there emotionally again. I have given original pieces of art that I am very proud of to family or close friends but only after making 10 prints first. The danger of keeping all your art is that your rejects can bring you down being around you; your failures stare you in the face. Do we hang our best and hide the rest? Help!

My paintings are like children. I give birth to them, nurture them, and develop them. But then, once they are mature and ready to go, I can let them go on into the world. That is their purpose. I usually take some time to say goodbye. Maybe spend an evening and a glass of wine to enjoy them…and then, the next day they are free to be on their way.

The hoarding of money, which is the most widespread and acceptable form of hoarding, can be cross-generational as well. The father, for example, may have had a great financial loss due to theft, alcohol or poor business decisions, where the son goes to work to rebuild and make up for the father’s losses. Trans generational art collecting tends to vary in the genre collected, whereas money for money’s sake is just about regular money.

You may call it hoarding – I call it the result of an economic downturn! :-)

Terri, I love it! As far as “improving”, eh, I think most of the artists making money right now are doing it by “improving” other artists by making them more like themselves, and, um, charging heft tuition fees to do it. People make art for different reasons. If Kinkaide kept all of his paintings in the garage, that would be hoarding commercial products. Each of the rest of us must allow others to think what they think of us. It’s none of our business.

I used to be thrilled when my paintings found new homes because I was always focused on what comes next. Lately I’m remembering old works which I would really, really love to have back. I even had this crazy idea of repainting all of my old paintings that I miss. But, I am starting to think that there is something else that still needs to be discovered within them. I recently repeated a couple of old works because my mind just wouldn’t let those images go. I thought if I paint them again, maybe I will get bored and let the whole issue go. Interestingly, it felt very good although the resulting works looked like twins of the old ones. They went through a new process but there were no major discoveries which made me wonder if this is just a major case of avoidance. What about all those new paintings that are waiting to be born? Will new works be born from old ideas, or will they be free from the burdens of past? I wonder if this kind of thinking is after all related to hoarding (not letting go of old ideas) or is it just a normal creative process? I can think of many examples from the art world where artists have revisited the same idea over and over again throughout their life. But, was that a good thing?

This letter hits home for me, in that last little part, this “constant and perennial need to perfect the work”. I am so bold in the beginning of a new painting, and then I keep these guys around without finishing them, thinking that they could be better, or could they? I didn’t think this was a problem with me, but every now and then it pops up, and I agonize over whether or not it’s perfectly finished, whether it’s “good enough” or could be better. This happens in spurts, maybe it has to do with the weather or some kind of imbalance, but every now and then it creeps up. So thanks for this letter, I now see what it is. Just gotta figure out how to get over it when it happens!

Perfectionism and hoarding are related. Perfectionism forms an inner barrier to cutting clutter because the Perfectionist can’t abide doing a less-than-perfect job. Without the time to give 110% to the project, the Perfectionist Clutterer prefers to let matters–and the piles of stuff–slide. Without a dealer, the piles of art also build up and this becomes an estate planning problem. What will happen to all of the art when I am gone, who will take care of it? This makes the case for unloading it while one is still alive. How to go about it without a dealer is not so easy, easier to just let it pile up and forget about an issue one would rather not deal with. Finding the right dealer is more difficult for those who are not painters or photographers as there are conservation and storage issues with other media which many dealers museums don’t want to be bothered with. There also may be the fear that one’s creativity may be taken away, the fear of losing one’s creativity, the fear of not being able to produce another as good as the previous pieces.

In regards to ‘hoarding’ art, I personally think it’s a necessity for artists. If for no other reason, it’s an excellent way to measure how far an artist has come over the years and how much they’ve learned and changed. Those sketches, studies and paintings that never sold may take up extra space but in my opinion, it’s worth every square inch! Whenever I look through my ‘hoarded’ work, I am amazed at how much I’ve grown over the years.

When I first began painting, about nine years ago, it was my wife who couldn’t bear to part with certain of my paintings. I, on the other hand, was anxious to make a few sales to convince myself that there was hope for me. Eventually, I convinced her that there will always be new paintings, and that some of them will be good. She bought into this idea so completely that now I look back wistfully at the days when she couldn’t bear to part with some of my paintings. I am still in the mode of (almost) never being satisfied with what I paint, so I’m not hoarding any of my work yet. I hope I eventually get there.

All the artwork in my house with the exception of ten pieces are mine. Indeed, I painted them for my house. Now my walls are tastefully filled but, I could be on the brink of hoarding, if I don’t start taking the stuff that is accumulating to market. I’m joking, of course. I have gifted and sold my work throughout the years, but I have never attempted to make my art into a business. I think I’m talented, but I don’t think my work is consistent in style, in medium or in subject. I feel I haven’t “gelled” yet. But I’m running out of time and I’d like to. It’s now or never time. Does an artist have to work in only one or two mediums? Does an artist have to favor flowers and landscapes and never explore the other genres? All the great did. And that’s what has kept my art at home.

I was in my studio’s storage area last night going over stuff. “I could sand this down and start again – it’s perfectly good…” That was my head language. However, I realized life is moving at the same 24 hour pace as ever and time is running out. So stuff got piled into a box to be anonymously dropped off at the Sally Ann for someone with time, energy, youth and no money to say “Look what I found! And it was so cheap! All I have to do is paint over it and it will be perfect for … !” A few of the paintings which will never see an art sale again are going in the garden: my friend’s husband took down an entire tree, exposing her pool to neighbouring eyes, so until the new plants grow, my artwork will add colour to her back fence.

It’s a real struggle for me to let go of things, some of which aren’t beneficial to me. Thanks for sharing your story.

Most every artist has a mother who thinks that you are so special and you give her work to hang. I live in NS and visit Sask. often and when I would go out there I would take the 1/4 sheets of finished work and when she was not around, I would change the ‘inferior’ work with the newer improved and most times she would not notice. A couple of times she said that something was different-I never agreed. When she passed away at least the better pieces I was capable of doing went to the rest of the family.

I am afraid no weighty issues of personal mind games has caused my stuff to accumulate, rather I paint more than what sells. Sure my stuff may not be good enough to sell and that would relieve me of any trepidations that I was just too damn lazy marketing my stuff. I would rather paint than go through the carnival junk of selling by spotting and manipulating some customer’s emotional imbalance that can be righted with the purchase of my Fine Art Work proving to the world they are sophisticated and discriminating citizens while giving them a daily metaphysical boost by simply being quite and reflecting on my work they have hung on their wall.

Many years ago I was a potter. I sold and gave away my best pots thinking I could always make more. I had to stop potting and I was left with only my seconds. My good pieces exist at others homes but I don’t get to see them often. I have a few photos of some pots I parted with, but the rest are just memories. When my own children started to take pottery classes in high school I wanted to share my experience, but didn’t have much to show them. I try to keep some of my best work in paintings so that when I die there will be proof that I did something good, though that may be my humble opinion. To add to your loss of chestnuts as your reason why you hoard. My family moved to California from El Salvador when I was 9 after my father died. We left everything behind and I was allowed to carry two dolls and a small suitcase with a few necessities. The weather here being so different than the tropics my old clothes were not going to do me much good here. I felt that I lost my entire world. So, yes I am a collector or hoarder.

Just this year I decided to release original paintings (instead of prints), haven’t sold anything yet but I tend to want to keep my favorite pieces…I want to be free to sell almost all, keep very few…not there yet.

By the time that I have completed a piece of artwork, there is relationship to it. Recently, I sold a large piece that had been with me through a journey for a year. Selling it was an emotional mix of glee and sadness. Meeting the buyer eased my pain as she expressed her delight in my work. My repeated experience has been the joy of the whole process of investing heartfelt time and energy in creating a piece and then letting it go. I wouldn’t trade that for anything! I guess I’m not a hoarder.

Thank you for posting this article and for all of these wonderful follow on comments. I had a situation in my 20’s where a friend who was storing my some of my things, including my art supplies and a large prized painting, decided to never return them. The betrayal, loss, and wound was so deep that I didn’t paint for years. Rather than hoard, I was afraid to create another piece. Then, so much time had passed I was fearful that my skills were lost, or it was too late. Thankfully, that wasn’t my last piece and none of it is true. Now, I look at sending out paintings as diaspora into the world. Messengers of love. I am happy if they leave and feel they will always be a part of me. The joy of having someone interested enough in my work to talk to me, and the excitement of selling face to face is incredible. I love knowing the paintings are going to good homes. Also, because of the digital age I know that they will live on in the internet as long as I took the time to get a good scan or photo.

Keeping the “dogs” is a good thing-for while. I have early work that I considered good but didn’t hit the mark, do to speak. I put them away on a shelf. Later, sometimes years later, I relook at them and see if what I missed the first time around can be seen and fixed. If I can rework it, great! If not, I either toss it (after cutting it up) or reuse the canvas on a newer, better work. I’ve always said that if fame comes my way conservators will have a field day when they x-ray my work. Good luck to them.

I have this same problem but it is because my work won’t sell for my asking price.

I felt an association with this and then decided that it was other loved ones who told me to hold onto my art stuff when I wanted to purge everything; and at this point the grandkids may have an empire?

I’m at the other end of the spectrum. Keeping too much too long distresses me to where I MUST divest myself of “stuff” regularly. If something comes in the house, something else moves out. Relocating every five to seven years since childhood has definitely cured the tendency to hoard. I like a clutter free, utterly comfortable, but orderly living environment and studio. Function overrides every other consideration. Sure, I have mementos but they are reasonable in anyone’s book. I have kept drawings and paintings I especially like but if it isn’t sold, it’s out the door. Those who despair commissions should understand there is an upside to the process – no accumulation. If you can’t sell it and for whatever reason can’t part with it, that painting may be a candidate for the burn pile. I have a family member who had a horrific childhood and survived twelve foster homes. Her house is one box short of the “Hoarders” television program. I have anxiety whenever I walk into her house but she LOVES it. There may be something in the psychology behind all this. Analyze your motives and move on.

Something you said in your last letter, “When we begin to see our work as the main currency of our lives” triggered an insight of sorts. I think that identifying ourselves as “artists” is tricky because we mistakenly link happiness and success to the “perception” that our work is our self-worth and that if it doesn’t sell or we can’t make a living or if our paintings aren’t critically acclaimed and the world is not beating a path to our door, it means we have somehow failed and are not “real” artists. Breaking that sticky tricky identification frees us up to experiment with what we love and to not care whether our art pleases “the critics.” I have spent twenty-five years listening to “the nattering nabobs of negativity” in my own mind and have identified the leading culprit. The inner critic who whispers, “Why Bother?” “You’re never going to be good enough, you are too old, art is impractical. You will starve.” I’ve learned to say, “Thanks for sharing. But today, I think I will use my time to better advantage.” Or even, “Thanks for your unsolicited opinion, but I really am not open to your feedback at this time.” Anyway, the hoarding issue is right up there for all of the artists that I know who are producing on a daily basis. And we each are dealing with our own inner demons. Good luck to us all.

Stockpiling food (old food particularly), hiding a cache of artwork, holding ideas (whether nasty or wonderful), all create toxic buildup, no? I love your resolution: “while my work may be on someone else’s wall, it’s still mine.” Another look at what Buddhist philosophy means by letting go? Thank you for your skillful way with ideas and words to express them. You have helped me improve how I AM an artist.

Semantics is important to any discussion. Collecting would be keeping things of special value/interest to you your own production or others. Archiving would be keeping a set of benchmarks to measure progress but why more than one painting a year would be necessary I can’t say. Hoarding is simply not letting go of anything at all – which relates to personality disorders. How many paintings you can keep and be healthy will vary. An accomplished professional selling well may want a good sized inventory to carry over when times are tough or if they can’t work. A commercial artist doing decor paintings may be stuck with no longer trendy stuff that should be junked. An artist painting to express universal truths in a unique way may never sell e.g. Vincent. Hoarding must be either selfish or simply an accumulation of sub-standard or pretentious junk that no one wants. Some collectors lose focus and begin to hoard things much less valuable than where they began. I am a mere dabbler. The kind folks at the guild said hang it here, price it so. I was not comfortable selling my first dabblings so I stopped. I do hang them in our mud room and when someone says I like that, I say if you want it it is yours. Soon I will reprime and start over on the ones no one wants. Any pointers on how to get back to canvas when you have an ugly acrylic palette knife attempt? Has anyone tried a power washer?

I have found the perfect gallery. This year when my parents moved into the local Seniors residence I noticed that there was very little on the corridor walls. I asked the administrator if she would like some original art work to hang in the hallways. She said that she would. I am now very famous at the residence. I keep changing the work about every six weeks. The staff and Seniors enjoy it very much.

I collect too many things, to be sure. Mostly pieces of Nature. And tools that may be handy. And information. And sentimentalities. But I’ve kept most of my artwork for 20+ years around for different reasons. The pieces that were studies, I go back and study. The pieces that were emotional, I reflect on when I see them and compare them to today. The pieces that are good, I keep in case someone will want them as much as I do. And there is one painting I started 20 years ago that I call my Never Ending Painting. I add to it every so often. I realized that it’s hard to finish a painting so I have this one that I never finish. That way I can finish the others and go back to that one. — A friend once referred to her personal paperwork as her “Life Files”, and I see my old work as being like that – a history of my life and works. I can see improvements as well as changes. Some things I did better back when. Sometimes my intuition was better than it is now. Sometimes I see things in the old work that I didn’t see before. As long as there is value in it, I’ll keep it around. And it proves that I wasn’t just playing tiddlywinks. Sometimes it just shows that I was enjoying myself.

My plein aire studies are like pages in the diary of my life. Each one elicits a wonderful memory of time, place, friends and enjoyment. I cannot part with them…they bring me much joy.

The reality shows on hoarders demonstrate the pathetic state of the media’s (and general public’s) ignorance and lack of empathy toward the mentally ill.

Cassandra, you can get to the bare canvas by scrubbing acrylic under very hot water. Acrylic breaks down under heat.

Thinking about possessions in general, the best cure I ever found for hoarding is to move countries, preferably from one with large houses to one with small houses, like I did! It’s a good life lesson, because you realise how little you really need to be happy. Then the trick is not to accidentally re-accumulate bits and bobs of this and that. I check regularly to keep this under control, though I have to confess that my work room does have rather a lot of things that can be used in art projects of different kinds…

It’s me again. Complaining again. Do I just have very bad eyesight or do other subscribers sometimes have to have a wild guess at what one of the validation words consists of? One is always clear; the other is invariably practically indecipherable. My last posting took three goes before I guessed right. I don’t see the point, actually.