The Story

So I have been working, thinking, sketching...the reception is getting clearer but still fuzzy. Its like an old tv with an old antenna...much like the one that I have on in the background as I type this blog. I adjust it daily and each time it gets a bit clearer but I have yet to achieve the purr-fect picture. (I recently discovered a new love for cats so i try to incorporate little reminders in subtle ways.)
I think that I like "Underground Love Story" better than "The Underground Love Affair". Its seems to be the name that I have been happy with for the longest. It is a story...my story..my obsession with pre-worn treasures that I so faithfully collect and cherish. My complusive need to scour in constant quest of little peices of brillance that hide in plain sight. Its a glamourous story but not in a Paris Hilton "Hollywood" sort of way, rather a catchpenny metropolitan, style vanguard sort of way. Its difficult to describe but quite a lovely story. The love affair between my collection and the countries in which they were fabricated. Between each peice and its orginal owner, the memories, the perfume, the abondonment, and the revival. The specific and deliberate acquistion is breathtaking, the satisfaction...priceless. Sharing that feeling, are wordless stories illustrated through small collections of this artform...they are love stories from the underground.