This is the largest thing I’ve done so far. It’s about a 3′ x 1′, on a composite board that was a cheesy cute (are there any other?) photo by Anne Geddes. It has pieces of my home town newspaper with the wedding announcement of some highschool friends. My card from when I was a young and clueless social worker in the early 90s, part of newspaper article about some of my clients from that job, and a bunch of other remnants, including my husband’s shopping lists.
One thing I’ve discovered is that ironing tickets (airline tickets, museum ticket stubs) makes them turn black.
My son wanted to help with this one, so he helped layout the pottery shards and glass bits. The shards are from a bowl I purchased in Floyd Virginia during my honeymoon. I was pleased that my son wanted to do the same thing with the broken jar that I did.
The jar is over 20 years old and still smelled slightly of patchouli. I’ve concluded that a lot of folks go through a developmental phase called “wear patchouli”. For me it was 19.
I passed a chap in the street not too long ago and he was wearing a strong dose of patchouli, along with his black kilt and blond dreads and I thought “don’t you know that’s been done before”, then I realized he was too young to remember. So basically every new generation of know-it-all young folks starts smelling like that. Then they do something else.