As I was gluing, I kept thinking about how my entire life has always had walls of books in the background. When I was 5 years old, we moved into a Victorian house with a large living room with built-in bookcases. They were 16 feet wide and all the way to the top of the 10-foot ceilings. At that point my parents did not own that many books, yet. My father even bought “filler” books like old encyclopedias at the Goodwill. When we moved to a New England house with less space and lower ceilings, the filler books got left behind, but the TV room still had a full wall of books. My San Francisco apartment is filled with more than 1,000 books. I even worked in an office for many years where every time I looked up from my desk there was a wall of books.
I imagine looking at all these books for all these years might be part of the reason for my latest art obsession.
I am not done yet…
