gifts from a dead man

A few weeks ago, during a visit to Jacksonville I adopted a couple of old suitcases from a friend whose eighty-two year old neighbor had just passed. He had adopted the suitcases but wasn't going to use their contents, so he gave them to his girlfriend who then passed them onto me.

The suitcases were hard plastic and covered in spider webs and fiberglass and stuffed inside them, all cluttered and chaotic, were the man's art supplies.

Acrylics, water colors, oils, brushes, palette knives, pencils, bottles, jars, brushes and his artwork.

All crammed together in a pile was all that was left of this strangers art supply collection. All for me.

I took everything out and sorted through the good and the bad, I cleaned one of the suitcases thoroughly and then organized it all back into its compartments. I sifted through his artwork, his paintings and drawings and the critiques from his art teacher.

It was intriguing and saddening. That I was going through the contents of the soul of a stranger. But it felt right and I feel so lucky to have what he left behind, even though I will never meet him.









today's editing style was inspired by Natalie