I Am A Museum of Everything I Have Ever Loved: Visual Expression of Identity

 

There are often sayings or phrases that show up in pop culture and on the internet which have no clear origin and seem to be passed around from social media to social media, providing new words for a centuries old feeling that still resonates with the current generation. A recent one that resonates with me is “I am a museum of everything I have ever loved,” describing how every interaction we have had, the music we listen to, the food we enjoy, the things we find beautiful (either now or in the past) influence who we are and how we express ourselves. While this by nature encompasses every sense, I’m choosing to write about expression through visual cues (heavy on the “museum” aspect). 

    To adorn my walls with images, art, and physical items brings me an immense amount of joy and comfort. I have always appreciated visuals, from paintings to patterns to the iridescent wings of the figeater beetle. It comes to a point where I feel I need to extract some of that wonder from my brain and throw it on the walls around me, to create a space where I feel at home. My roommate freshman year had a singular poster on his side of the white cinderblock walled room—what some refer to as a hospital or prison wall. I'm agnostic but have a deep appreciation for religious art—Christian/Catholic, Buddhist, and Hindu in particular—the beauty (and horror) is palpable. While lots of religious art is serene and peaceful, there are also scenes of vengeance, pain, and death; "Unbeautiful things often delight our eyes, too" (Ackerman 278). As someone who has always been an avid collector of various things, to look around my room and see things that are beautiful or humorous or sad just makes me feel something. It connects me with things and people beyond my own experience. For example, the two portraits of 19th century women with locks of their hair arranged neatly behind the glass, evidence of human beings with experiences and emotions and who cared (or had people who cared for them) to appreciate and preserve their essence. When I look around my room I see me, the things that make up what I love, the values I hold, the person I am.

   I hope heaven is an antique store.

Note the wreath of hair is the same style the woman is wearing in her portrait on the left. And the hand-colored pink tint to the woman's cheeks on the right.