The sun is almost about to set in. As I write this blog today, surrounded by countless papers of art work drawn and colored by my daughter, I wonder what the true value of art is. Is it in the art itself or the artist? If Picasso wasn’t Picasso, would his art have all that value?
I have been collecting her art since she was 2. As you can imagine, most of it is scribble-scrabble, with the nice looking things drawn by her teacher and color filled very poorly by Anishka. Over the years, her motor skills have improved and I am seeing more and more of heart shapes that look less like a kidney, flowers that actually look like flowers and may be some princess stickers that are placed rightly on the corners of the river. Last week, in my mini de-cluttering goal, I brought together all three baskets of her art work to sort out the best and put them in a folder grouped by years and throw anything that didn’t make the cut. I did sort the papers, but those that didn’t make the cut are still sitting on my table, and I have no idea what I want to do with them. I don’t want to throw them, but there is no point keeping 5 copies of the same flower, drawn in the same color either. The trash pick up has come twice since I sorted these out, and I didn’t have the heart to actually go put it outside.
Its even worse with pictures. In her five and a half years, I have clicked more than 50 GB of pictures. Not all of them are nice, but there is no way I am ever going to delete any single one of them. Looking at the increasing pixels in the digital cameras, and assuming the events happening in her life will grow with age, atleast till she is 30, I might have more than 2 Terabytes of pictures by the time she is 20. And with her faster than the fastest life, education, boyfriends, girlfriends, jobs, will she even ever go back and look at all those pictures. And if she does, how often? And with a couple of TBs of pictures, who will care about all this art work that doesn’t even make sense.
My mom has saved our first years’ of clothes; it feels good to look at them now. But I never sat with those clothes and went nostalgic on them. The fact is, I have no memories associated with them myself, I might just have been lying in the bed in those days and worrying about who’s got Milk. Mother, on the other hand, has probably some of the best of her memories associated with those things. So technically, it’s the parents saving these things for themselves, not for the kids.
Either way, there’s got to be a better way to save these things without cluttering the whole house.
How do you organize your kid’s art work, projects, pictures?