what you've been saving
When I lived in New York I had a housemate DV whom I found on Yahoo or in some other stupid risky internet way. He showed up to check out the room-for-rent in my two bedroom and he was wearing black nailpolish and he told me he was in the design field, and after walking once around the place he handed me a check. He was new to the city and he didn’t realize that it was harder than that to get a room – that I would be meeting several people and asking probing questions and then making a calculated decision. But he handed me the check with such certainty, I just said Great.DV was a kickass housemate. He made super home fries and he played guitar and we had unreal New York parties. When we got kicked out and moved on to different, separate apartments we stayed friends, and we stayed friends for years until he had a falling out with a good friend of mine he’d been dating. You know how those things go.
But I think about DV regularly, and this is why.
When I was applying to grad school I needed a portfolio. I’d never put a portfolio together before, and I didn’t know what to put in it or how. DV and I didn’t hang out often but I called him up. He sat me down and said Go to this store. Get this type of folder. Get these plastic sleeves. Then he told me to bring everything portfolio-possible I could think of to his new kitchen table. I laid out sketches and photographs and collages I had made, and a heavy plaster of paris sculpture as big as a carton of milk. He flipped through the flat things and said This is good, They’ll love this one, This one is sweet but maybe not for a portfolio. And when we got to the sculpture he said Absolutely. He said to leave it there on his table.
A few days later he called and told me to swing by a photo store in the neighborhood. He had taken my sculpture to his office, because it had an accessible roof with neat industrial looking gravel and he thought it would be a compelling place to photograph the thing. He had waited for perfect light, and then taken careful flattering shots. He had picked the best ones and brought them to the photo store and had them enlarged. I slid them into my portfolio and sent it off to grad school. I got in.
The next time I saw DV I tried to pay him for his time, which as a designer was worth quite a lot. He wouldn’t have it. And when I tried to pay him for at least the enlargements, he said this: When I was learning to do this, a lot of people helped me out. Help someone else out when you know what you’re doing.
It was very simple and clear and there was nothing to argue with about it. DV was this way to his core. If he could do something that would help someone, that was that, and there was no collateral. I think a lot of us were not raised this way. I think a lot of us were raised to guard the things we have vigilantly, even if they would be easy to give, even if the holding on isn't helping anyone.
And I don’t think that comes from a bad place. I think it comes from wanting to stay safe, which is a healthy thing to want. But sometimes, for me at least, it comes from an idea of what’s fair - as if fairness means you get back what you give and you keep what is yours. But I think of DV whenever I find myself keeping accounts, and I try to say I don’t need that back. I try to say it about books and drawings and jam, and about time, and about people. I’m lucky to have had this. It will be hard to let go of until I do, and then it will be easy. And it’s been six years but I’m hopeful that one day it will just be second nature, to give things away and not feel, even secretly and deep down, that they’re bound to return.
posted by tortaluga @ 11:53 PM
3 Comments:
Karma baby. We always get back what we give, good or bad, intentional or not. It isn't always timely and doesn't always return in the same form.
I've been busy and it's been a while, but I'm back and it's quickly easy to remember why I love so much to come here and read.
hello ephraim! i wondered where you went to. (somewhere good i hope.) glad to see you again.
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