Funkiness

Some people are born with an innate sense of funkiness like my brother Robin and my sister-in-law Wendy. The photo on the left shows a corner of Robin’s writing room, formerly their living room, and the one on the right, a section of one of Wendy’s collection of pictures and memorabilia that she has put up in her space at the back of the house.
Wendy also uses a kitchen on the second floor as her art room and has hundreds of costumes stored in the basement. Nifty bits and pieces are displayed everywhere like necklaces, driftwood and Buddha heads. Instead of having vegetation in the flower box on their front porch, Wendy planted a whole row of giant peacock feathers…wish I’d taken a picture of that. Robin has a signed picture of Elvis and a colored pencil drawing of a parrot I did at least two decades ago displayed over his desk.
When I got home I took a look around my studio space and I could see that I have the family pack rat thing going on too: glass bricks, angels, rust, a bird’s nest, shells and so on. But somehow it’s always more fun looking at someone else’s stuff.