Poking around the storage area of the studio I come upon interesting art. For example, here is one of Dante's paintings that I barely remember seeing. She makes them, and immediately places them on obscure shelves. Hides them, is a more accurate term. At least it seems that way. But maybe she thinks I end up hiding my pieces as well. In fact, I often barely look at them after they're finished. Lately I photograph almost all of them. This is an improvement on cataloguing the art. In the past it came down a choice between photographing a new piece and buying food for dinner. The food always won. Especially when raising a family.
What survives of distant, ancient cultures? The art. Nothing else. A carved bit of ivory. A charcoal drawing of a bison on a cave wall. A small shard of an earthenware pot. A broken shell necklace. That's about it.
If our paintings and sculpture are destroyed by an earthquake, fire, flood, vandalism, or nuclear explosion, that's all right. It happens. More than once throughout history. But not everything is lost. Always a few things survive buried under the rubble. And eventually a few of those are dug up and become more valued than ever. In order for all my work to absolutely disappear the earth itself would have to vanish.
