Below is something I posted in 2012. I'd forgotten I'd written it, but as I sort through my journal entries, I've discovered some posts I like a lot. This is one of them.

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I like art. I'm not much of an artist myself, but I'm also not afraid to express myself on canvas. A really, really amazing artist once observed that I could be good at plein aire because I'm fearless and plein aire requires quick, sure strokes as well as unsure strokes and the ability to chase the sun and beat the clock and all the while being gutsy with colliding brushstrokes igniting hues with light and no light as they come together and fuse to capture a moment that's about to escape and flee the eye's peek at life through a wide lens which is about to slide into the shadows at that very instant moment: tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock. I tried two plein aire canvases and he was right - they weren't bad, but I wasn't interested. I had my own unmarketable style that I've stuck with. Nothing about my canvases is fashionable, but I like them and that's been sufficient motive for me to return to my easel every so often.

My primary relationship with art is the art of collecting. I have a quirky prerequisite for my collection. I acquire only originals. This has often been a challenging requirement because a canvas or sculpture might be too expensive for my budget, but I won't waver. Giclees haven't a chance at holding audience with my discerning eye. Well, it's more than that. I guess it's selfishness... but why the heck would I want a copy - something that everyone else has? I probably wasn't good at sharing my toys either when I was a kid, but I know that when I add to my collection, I know that every time I look at it, I know that it's a one-of-a-kind, and that it's uniquely mine. A piece of an artist's spirit and passion and fearlessness resides within my home, my heart. It's a relationship we've created - A marriage, if you will, of passion that's been swirled into oils or pastels or watercolors or other numerous mediums. It's an irrevocable bond that's shared for as long as I breathe - with a vow to bequeath my burgeoning walls and pedestals to the generations that will follow me with the hope that the tantalizing broth of my passion won't be diluted, but will richly thicken with an energy that honors this hulking, eclectic, fearless, hodgepodgey, perfect collection that has come to define me.

This passion of mine started many years ago, but *became* during my poorest years as a single mother working four jobs here and there while also zip-filing fulltime duties as a mom. My career as a mommy never really was given its due respect. I tell people I always had jobs - as many as it took to keep a roof over our heads, food on the table. My career was my children. I was *just* a housewife who worked jobs moonlighting with bookkeeping after my youngest was asleep. I was only a mom who today can shout out that I have the three most amazing children in the universe and I give myself partial credit because of all the time I invested in them and how any other career wouldn't have been nearly as successful. It was a satisfying career, but I was forced into retirement when my baby left for college. All I wanted was to do it all over again because I loved them that much so very completely.

It was during those poorest years that I picked up temporary work in three museums in Southern California. It was during this time I learned how silly curatorial people could be with inflated, infantile temperaments. Anyone who has worked museum installation knows that it's hard work - physically, as well as the art of developing sleight-of-hand skills to deflect the petty dramas that lurk at every turn, and to convincingly convince everyone that the only intimate relationship I wanted was with the art - and dammit, get your stinking turpentine fingers off my ass! *sigh* It was during those years that I got up-close and personal with art with gloved hands embracing each piece - my eyes within inches of the chunky or smooth brushstrokes and shades of colors unique to each artist. I'd have a catch in my breath and linger longer than I should when I worked installation.

It was intoxicating - so much so that the essence of the epiphany has never left me. So, I collect art, but there's a lovely caveat that's evolved over the years - one I couldn't act upon during my poorest years. For every dollar I spend on myself, I spend another where there's a need. I don't do this because of guilt. I do it because of gratitude. I could've acquired jewels and cars and fancy trips, but chose not to. I'm just a grateful collector of art.

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I've added two paintings to the post. My collection is quite vast. These are two random favorites.