For some of us, that sort of 'cleaning' diminished over the years, but still remained the quickest fix when someone is coming over and you don't want them to have to wade through the mess that was trying to pick out an outfit for the past three days.
But besides clothes, it can be anything. Sixteen-year-old me gasped at the thought of throwing away a bright blue paperclip because I would totally need it sometime right? I wasn't a hoarder, but I just could not bring myself to throw away things that I didn't need. And so the piling up began.
After I came home from college, I stood in the middle of my room, surrounded by boxes of things to unpack, and realized that I had absolutely no place to put the things I brought home. This is where I began space cleaning.
I took the bins labeled "misc," at the top of my closet and dumped everything onto the bedroom floor. I found everything from used neon pipe-cleaners to little tchotchkes from the beach when I was little. I had stared at the piles I had made of things that were just straight up trash and what could possibly be salvaged and dubbed as a treasure to my little sisters, and then dumped in their rooms. The amount of trash that I could just not let go of for some reason was almost funny, and I sat there on the ground wondering why I had been so attached to each little item when it was more of a fire hazard than anything useful sitting up in those bins. All those little plastic gift shop toys were my life at one point, but now I stared at the glow in the dark jellyfish trapped in glass and wondered just why I had been so obsessed with material things.
After three days of straight cleaning, I had gotten rid of three trash bags worth of 'things' and given two more to the grappling hands of my sisters. I felt like I was on such a roll, I started on my closet and drawers — filled with things I hadn't touched in months or years, but still held onto despite knowing they would go unworn. Some things were way too small, way too young, or just not at all what I still call comfortable. My little sisters went to town when they saw the growing mountain of clothes outside of my room, and I was even surprised to see my older sister sifting through the pile as well.
First of all, it felt awesome for someone to think the stuff you wore at one point was cute, especially your siblings, whose job it is to flame you on any occasion possible. But more than that, I felt amazing just getting it out of my room. Everything felt bigger, and I used the empty bins to now store college items in a much more organized way. When I was finally done cleaning spaces, I felt like an invisible monster had left the room. The monster was what was hiding at the top of my closet, in every stuffed up drawer, and under my bed especially — unironically — and it was the anxiety of procrastination of actually getting rid of the material things that no longer served a purpose for me.
And let me tell you, kicking that monster out (but not before I thanked it for all the little memories and lessons it taught me) felt great. It may have strolled right into my youngest sister's room, who now was shoving all the tchotchkes she had snagged on every visible flat surface she could find in her already tornado-torn space, but it'd be a good lesson for her to learn in a few years.
But then, sitting in my room was even more enjoyable than it had ever previously been, and I loved my room before that too. The clogging up of any space in your life is the clogging up of your flow in general. If you choose to hold onto those little scraps of paper, you're choosing to hold onto something that no longer serves you a purpose, and where your focus and attention is fixed, all of your energy flows there and not to where you want it to — even if you don't do this consciously! Closed doors won't protect you from it, because you cannot ignore what you know to be true and existing, and if you do, you're in denial.
My biggest piece of advice to you is that if that monster of untouched clothes or gift shop items or anything is sitting in your space — your space, where you choose to relax — go respectfully kick it out. All of those things served you at one point in your life, and it is so good to have gratitude to them, but don't keep something around when it no longer serves you in the ways that you need.
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'Exit Through The Gift Shop' Is Banksy's Digital Street Art
The film depicts and comments on the world of street art with the charm of self-awareness.
Remember when that one painting shredded itself after being sold for $1.4 million? That was British street artist Banksy's doing. Despite his rejection of traditional art critics, Banksy's pieces often sell for millions of dollars. There are many who refuse to call his work "real" due to the fact that it is a product of vandalism. His supporters acknowledge that his work is vandalism, which, in tandem with his revolutionary choices in location, style, and subject matter, is precisely what makes it an exemplar of modern art. Regardless of one's opinion of him, Banksy, no doubt holds a position of authority in the modern art world in which everything he creates is a subject of widespread attention, whether it be disparagement or appreciation.
It is perhaps because of this worldwide captivation that "Exit Through the Gift Shop," Banksy's 2010 foray into film-making, comes with considerable accolades. The Academy Award-nominated documentary brings much of the graffiti artist's abrasive commentary to the big screen. With narration from both Banksy and Welsh actor Rhys Ifans, the film acts a self-aware examination of street art, exploring both subtle works like those of British artist Invader to the grand-scale pieces of Banksy himself. This exploration calls into question the public's notions of modern art while also considering what even determines if art is valid.
While Banksy's directs the film, he is neither behind the camera nor the focus of it throughout most of the movie. "Exit" quickly clarifies how that honor goes to Thierry Guetta, a Frenchman from Los Angeles who owned a designer clothing store. What does he have to do with street art or this movie?Everyone involved in the movie asks the same question, but whether he deserves the attention or not, Thierry is stuck with viewers from start to end. Ifans explains how the Frenchman is usually found holding a video camera in front of his eyes, documenting every moment. When Thierry stumbles upon his street artist cousin Invader designing pixel templates for art to be placed on street side walls and rooftops, what follows is his rapid introduction to the world of street art as he films every artist—whether they want him to or not—in the hopes of eventually creating his own documentary about the subject. The journey takes him to the skepticism of Banksy, the interrogation rooms of Disneyworld, and the rooftops of LA, where he even begins to craft his own street art.
It becomes clear why Banksy turned Thierry's cameras around to capture the amateur filmmaker in action. In every scene where he is the subject, Thierry shines with this charismatic joy that borders on annoyance. Other individuals express in their disdain for him, as a supposed imbecile incapable of real artistry, yet he continues to frantically film and create, rarely showing a sign of disillusionment. In one scene he swears in French about how he spilled paint, and seconds later he emphatically tells the camera to get closer to inspect the pink puddle. Some of his interviews are at times nearly incomprehensible, illustrating how he is a perplexing enigma, hypocrisy, an artist who should not be able to attain the success that he does. Thierry, for better or for worse, will make or break a viewer's impression of "Exit Through the Gift Shop."
Banksy pulls together crisp editing and his manic subject to construct a self-aware work that comments on how we perceive art. All of the professional artists believe Thierry's work isn't genuine. Yet the public, finds him a captivating artist, regardless of his frenetic personality. The film, in spite of Banksy's careful direction, is a product and representation of Thierry's haphazard creations and behavior. But just as "Exit" somehow succeeds by using the chaotic source material to find meaning in the madness, so too does Thierry seem to find something magical, practically brainwashing his audience into believing in him and his ingenuity. Whether that means he is a true artist like Banksy is open for debate, but the documentary is a convincing film not afraid to show and criticize the means of its creation.
"Exit Through the Gift Shop" is a film that shouldn't work. And for some, it won't work. The absurdity of a random Frenchman with a camera becoming an artist is likely too much for skeptical viewers. But for those who can digest it, the documentary offers an insightful perspective on modern perceptions of art that is worth watching—even if it feels like an artificial production. In other words, the director has once again gotten away with something that seems delusional, creating a digital Banksy.