I like to make homes wherever I go. I wish I could fulfill the romanticized notion of a wandering poet, a Kerouac-type artist on the road– but the truth is, I don’t always believe in that. And today, in a globalized world, it’s easier to find wanderers than it is to find roots.
(Not to mention, mobility is a privilege of the wealthy. This move across the country has put me in a hard place financially– I even had to leave my art portfolio at home because it was over $100 to ship!)
In any case, I find it easier to be outgoing and adventurous when I also have my safe space: apartment, studio, dorm room, whatever. I worry sometimes that this means that I’m too attached to my things, but don’t think it’s a materialist instinct. My belongings are exactly that: tools to help me belong. The vast majority of the things I packed were cookware, books, and art supplies.
…and, you know, underwear and stuff.