I just took down a water-colour of mine from the bedroom wall and put up a poster of Provençal cats instead. The cat poster is charming but that's not what I was going to talk about.
For a few moments I thought that I had thrown away the decrepit old suitcase (27SEK at Åhlens in Linköping, if I remember right) that I use to stow my old paintings in. But I found it at the back of the closet. Thank goodness. I'm not much for holding on to things. In fact I'm forever throwing things away but those paintings are some of the few possessions I have that I really identify with. They mean something to me.
The paintings were in the grey bin bag held flat against the bottom of the suitcase by some camping gear. I took them out and looked at them. I did remember that I had painted quite a few self portraits but not that there were so many. Now I understand why somebody at one of the art schools I went to said that I was obsessed with self portraits
I want to take photos of the paintings when I get my new camera. Perhaps that's a worthwhile project for the holidays. It would be nice to have them on file in case something were to happen to them. I think I shared a water-colour of a tree early on but that's all and I can't find it now. Oh, actually here's a still life
to the right of the bookshelf, that's more representative of my style. I stopped painting in the early nineties. No urge.