Getting Serious Now

My recent studio move has me in a quandry about which quilts are keepers and which need to be sent off to the quilt-heavens. Some were experimental, some were reactions to a moment that long ago passed, and a great percentage are just plain icky after all these years. I've already made dog beds out of some, a camera stand pole cover out of another, and sent others off clipped and trimmed to required sizes for charity donations. But I need to pare down some more and 'de-access the collection', as they say. Robert Genn is again right on my personal target today:

On the Painters Keys newsletter an artist laments: "Do you recommend painting over acrylic paintings or should they be kept for reflection? Since I've been at it for over 40 years, I have lots of paintings that used to be keepers, but which no longer show my present painting skills, my likes or my style. I wonder why I kept many of them. Should I destroy them? Or should I use them for supplies?" And Robert replies:

Every so often we need to get busy and chuck--just in case some executor or offspring makes the mistake of thinking something's okay. There's enough bad art in the world already and we don't want to add to it by leaving substandard stuff out and about...
Some artists have a sense of preciousness about every squiggle or splodge they make. They hang onto stuff with tenacity, even building archives to rival The Ark of the Covenant. I've always put this down to poor toilet training, but it may also have something to do with ego blow or the expectation of a place in the history of art. Curiously, this sense of intrinsic brilliance is a condition frequently rampant among artists whose work is of low challenge or difficult for anyone to criticize, including themselves.

So, one log of quilts at a time, I promise to re-purpose or just plain DUMP as many pieces as possible. Each log is maybe 10 or so quilts so my work is cut out for me.

Right after I paint on the sink's ruby slippers. And make it a little skirt.