What is art?

It always fascinates me to see what people decorate their homes with. One can immediately tell the difference between a home that is largely personalized by handmade, found, unique or sentimental treasures, and one that ascribes to whatever the big box tells you is fashionable for the moment. I think that's one of the main problems I have when on that very very rare occasion I MUST go to Target or some other large chain for something...I feel as if I'm immediately having the interior design inclined hand of Big Brother thrust down my throat until I choke out the words "uncle!! uncle!!" and opt for a vintage-inspired faux wood picture frame with a girl sitting in a martini staring at me in lushy bliss. I ask her where the socks are that I trudged in here for, and all I get is the dazed glare of a $14.99 "you should have known better" harlot.

Tsk tsk. This may not have actually happened to me...but you know you've seen that print in a girlfriend's kitchen...

I was walking around the warehouse the other day and got to thinking about the pieces that I've chosen to surround myself with. Even in this expansive space, certain 3x5 pieces bring me back to a comforting time. I'm sure everyone has a bit of that...or at least I would hope so...

Hence, an abbreviated guide of the oddities that comfort me.

A Murder City Devils tour poster, carved wood, two ceramic owls...


Framed Alice In Wonderland drawing, the White Rabbit gesturing towards the way Alice must go through the wasteland, found at a salv army...framed postcard of bird's nest...gifted pottery.


Dead Meadow show poster, hand drawn...cast iron eagle, meant for outdoors...old carved Buddha and sake set from the estate of my grandparents.


Four frames, painted black by me, of different pieces of gift tissue paper. I chose one rose from each to paint red, and framed them. These have been with me through at least 6 moves.


My kitchen must-have. Thin piece of wood covered by delightfully old-farmhouse style print found in an old roommates left belongings. Tacked the rusted meat cleaver to it, from the same grandparent's estate, as a reminder to me of its use....


In the end, there are 10,000 things that one might find daily comfort or inspiration in. Each of which I'm sure is entirely personal...the means to which allowing something mass-manufactured to become personal is what troubles me. My entire existence has been parallel to malls, chain stores, catalogs, MTV. When does one make the break from the feeding tube of this formulated "nostalgic" crap? When does one truly admire something for its workmanship, its artistry, or its sheer originality from the pack? Todd Oldham and China should not dictate your personal taste!

For now, I'll let my cat tell me what he prefers...that guy has never had a reason to lie in his life...