I accompanied my sister and a few nieces to an estate sale in the beautiful San Fernando Valley while in the LA area last week. The woman hosting the sale came out of one of the back rooms and picked up her Pekeniese dog. She held him close and told me to listen to him snort. Smiling she said "He always snorts and when he sleeps he snores". She looked a little eccentric in her flowing flowered print dress. I thought "where's my camera" oh well, I was in a private home anyway. The items on sale were very old and very worn. Not antiques, just old worn out stuff. She had a story for every item, even her jar of nails. I had the feeling she was loosing her home, She moved there many years ago to care for her father. She also mentioned losing an envelope in her purse containing $2,200. A friend of my sister, who also went to the sale, asked about a painting. The woman replied, "it was painted by a very famous painter in Santa Barbara". My sister's friend asked "where's the signature?" The woman answered "I cut it off to put it in the round frame". And so went our time at the estate sale.
On the drive home my sister mentioned how we are so close to becoming just like her. Our family so artistic, so different, so on the edge at times, whether financially or emotionally. My sister immediately said "Oh my gosh! I have a jar of nails at home. I'm throwing them out." I started thinking about what she said, and I've lived so close to the edge most my life, I don't think I could function in what others constitute a normal state of being. I guess I have to embrace my jar of nails. Without my craziness how could I have survived? I knew then I would photograph a jar of nails. And just like my life, my jar of nails had all kinds of cat hair, dust, and screws mixed in.
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