Sunday, February 5, 2012

The Conservation of Precious Objects

When I graduated college, a friend of mine was continuing on to a masters program called The Conservation of Precious Objects.  She wanted to become one of those museum people who keeps fine art from crumbling into oblivion.  Bless her.

We don’t have any fine art around our house, but you’d never know it from my family photo neurosis.  Since my memory is so bad, our digital and printed pictures are like holy relics.  How will I know what my kids looked like as babies if I don’t have photographic evidence?  I live in fear that one (or all) of the following will obliterate our photos: a house fire, a computer crash, a back-up hard drive crash, iCloud evaporation, my failure to use 100% acid free storage boxes.  I could go on.

Back in the olden days, people were lucky to have one photo of their family.  Today, we have thousands, and the chances of them all disappearing are slim.  Still, I’ve kept our photos squirreled away in a guestroom closet, afraid that by handling them I’d somehow mess them up.  That closet mocked me for years until I finally couldn’t take it anymore.  I hauled out all the boxes and scrapbooks, and I started to sort.  Surprisingly, the photos did not spontaneously combust.  And in an act of uncharacteristic bravery, I decided our photos were meant to be looked at, not hidden away in the name of conservation.  So.  I am slowly bringing out some of the best pictures for display.  And I plan to throw a bunch into scrapbooks, even if I'm incapable of doing anything with stickers and pretty paper.

I know I sound like a nutcase.  Most people don’t get this worked up over snapshots.  But it’s one of my little quirks, and until they develop a Twelve Step program for this one, I’m on my own.  In the meantime, I'm going to demote our photos to semi-precious objects.  The people they depict are the true treasures.

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