I *know* I came in here for something . . .
Even those not in my Age Group (i.e., old) have had that irritating experience of going into a room and having no clue on arrival what they intended to do once there. I just have it more often than most. I’ve had it more often than most since (ironically) before I can remember. Thank you, short attention span and daydreaming obsession. But I’m kind of used to it, even if it’s still a little frustrating in the moment. I just have to go on lengthy mental fishing expeditions to try to recapture those slippery thoughts that had swum on through, not stopping quite long enough to satisfy the need of the occasion.
Surely I have mentioned here more than once that I have made many an artwork with fish as topic or, often, as random interjection. The piece above followed my work on a series of icon-like works, so it started out as yet another saint-with-a-halo sort of thing, but then these fish came jumping into the frame and suddenly the whole storyline veered off in a completely different direction. So I guess it could be said to be a perfect self-portrait in that way. Then again, maybe it’s still a good metaphor for a so-called Saint, since from what I’ve read and heard and been told, very few of them ended up doing ‘what they came into the room to do’ in life, but rather got knocked off course and went on other tangents.
That’s reassuring in its way, but it doesn’t fix my problem of forgetfulness or lack of focus, now, does it. There’s certainly no surprise in our forgetting a thing or two over the course of a lifetime. The batik-like little image below (with fish as its subject, in another shocking development) is not only a picture of a sort of trademark type of tale but also has my characteristic style of line, textures, and composition. But darned if I can recollect when, where or for what purpose I made the piece. I would not have known I had made it if it weren’t for finding the photo of it when it was hanging on the office wall of a company for whom I made a salmon-centric exhibition because they had a facilities grand-opening celebration in which they wanted to emphasize their commitment to saving the native Washington salmon runs not protected by similar companies’ practices. Oh, yeah–that was why and when I made the work. What happened to it later is another question, though the company did end up buying a handful of the shown works to keep in their buildings after the exhibition, so maybe it still lives there. But clearly, I’m not the one to ask. I just don’t remember stuff like that. I get a thought; it shoots off into deeper waters.
Hmmm, what was it I was talking to you about? Oh, well, maybe I’ll come back to it later. Maybe . . .
I'll be thinking of you . . .
Art-Colored Glasses 
Love the works you show here and I can so relate to…erm…what was it again I can relate to?!
In honor of this post, maybe I’ll use a new expletive phrase for such occasions: ‘Oh, FISH!’ 😉
I once said to my doctor, having just had my fifth child and being about 24 I felt I was too young to be forgetting things .
I said to him, I keep forgetting stuff and it worries me..
He said, Was it important?
I said. Was what important?.
What you forgot, he said. Was it important?
But how would I know, I said laughing. (Jiggling a grizzly baby on my knee while trying to make room for a toddler on the same knee and removing a stethoscope from the hands of the three year old.) I have forgotton.!
There you are then, he said. Nothing to worry about.
True. he was my favourite doctor and when he retired i never went to another one. That would have been twenty years ago now!
Have a great day.. c
Of course I’m having a great day: you made me laugh and grin like a, like a . . . oh, damme, I can’t remember now! 😀
xoxo!
Kath
I’m reminded of the expression “a memory like a goldfish” 🙂
Delightful! I’ve never heard that one! Or maybe I just forgot it . . . 😉
Maybe you should start drawing elephants, they are reputed to have good memories 🙂
About halfway through, I had a comment, but…
Don’t worry, I’ll be here when it comes back to you . . . if it ever does . . . 🙂
I should have paid the extra costs and bought a fridge with glass doors. It would have easily paid for itself considering how much time I spend gaping into the open ice box looking for heaven only knows what. On the plus side, I’ve discovered that whatever memory I still retain is located in my posterior, for the moment I return to my seat and get comfortable, I remember why I went to the fridge.
Hmmm, now that you mention it, I wonder if *Richard’s* memory is located in *my* sit-down, because it sometimes seems he only remembers what he was going to tell me (that requires me to be in the room with him) when I’ve gone into the other room and gotten nicely settled. Which reminds me . . .
Oh goody, it happens to all of us then. I get very side tracked with all sorts of other tasks and the like. I do however (most of the time) go back and finish what I started but it seems much more fun to take the scenic route I guess.
🙂 Mandy
I believe I’ve heard friends of ours refer to the home version of it as Butterfly Housekeeping, which makes it sound ever so much more lovely and charming than Standing in Front of the Cupboard Wondering What the H*** I Came There For does! 🙂
I love, love the batik-like fish. It’s gorgeous.
By the way, I received the print of your that I ordered. It cheers my heart considerably and is a source of inspiration.
Oh, I’m so very glad! The fish will probably go up on Zazzle soon, too, though it will have to be offered only in quite small sizes because I don’t think I can get it to a very high resolution for enlargement. I guess that’ll keep the price down, at least!
Oh yeah… Been there and done that. I just don’t remember when it happened.
Probably a good thing, too! 😉
I think that walking into a room and forgetting why you are there feeling is due to a multitasking busy mind – well that’s my excuse.
Being a living being that attempts to know, understand and remember things is excuse enough! But multitasking definitely adds a Degree of Difficulty to the cause.