I stared at my kitchen table. I had always liked it. A combination of wood and wrought iron with a glass top, it was the focal point. I also loved the table and chairs in my formal dining room. A pink marble table top with wrought iron chairs, I had offset it with soft pink walls and a 42" x 30" painting of my own creation. All of this would have to "go", along with various other things - I just wouldn't have room where I was going to live.
I took stock of what was in my closets and drawers. So many things: books, clothing, knick-knacks. If I kept them, I would have to pay to move them. I would be jamming what nicely fit in 2000 sq ft into just under 700.... and I HATE clutter.
I debated selling the furniture. What could I actually get for it? Not really all that much. My ad on Craig's List for the marble dinette set had brought no offers. There was considerable competition.
My friend Natalie, a college student, wanted some of what was in the guest room, along with a chair and table.
"Just take it." I said. "I want to see it put to good use."
With that, I decided to donate the larger items: two dinette sets, a computer armoire, a sleeper sofa and canopy queen bed. I briefly researched what I would need to claim a tax deduction legally. As my total donation would be over $2500, an itemized list (IRS Form 8283) was required. The total from Form 8283 would then be recorded on IRS Form 1040 Schedule A.
I debated to whom I should donate: Goodwill, The Salvation Army? Both are excellent charities but the Salvation Army would come and pick-up my things. Bingo!
I also had a closet full of military uniforms ( I was discharged from the Air Force in March), evening gowns and beauty pageant crowns. Perhaps a theater department?
Chloe, also a college student, was involved with her school's theater department. I texted her, asking if the department was looking for donations to the "theater closet". She responded quickly that her contact would be thrilled to receive my things.
"They are doing a production of 'Carrie'. They really could use the crowns and dresses right away."
"If I give you a receipt, could you have them sign it? Then I can deduct what I donate from my taxes."
"Sure!"
I typed up a list with estimated values. The total came to $1000. Wow! Combined with the other items, I 'd be donating close to $5000. That meant at my current tax rate of 28%, I would "make" $1400 while my old things (many worn only once) would be used and enjoyed.
I began to think long and hard about my art work. It needed to go too. But where? From my days in nursing school, I remembered clinicals in day-treatment facilities and clinics run by the state or non-profit organizations. I recalled the art displays, often donated by local artists. It added a soothing touch to an otherwise sterile environment. I researched various organizations before calling Tarrant County MHMR. Would they want my artwork?
I spoke with Melanie. She was kind and grateful, thanking me for my offer.
"The frames will all be included.' I said. "I'll send you some pictures and measurements. If you can't use any, that's completely fine."
"I will forward them to the manager of one of my clinics."
A few days later she responded. The clinic manager wanted all my paintings. Really? Someone actually liked my art? I had feared I would be mocked and considered just throwing them away. Instead, my creations would brighten where people came for help.
Yes, this would also serve as a tax deduction, but it meant much more. Each had been a labor of love to create, but I never thought anyone else could possibly want them.
I had grown up in a house of unspeakable secrets, taught from my earliest rememberance to present a flawless image. This had extended to the artwork I had produced. Invariable, my "masterpieces", just like myself, could never be "good enough". There was always an imperfection to be obsessed over. The creative impulse withered beneath the blistering scrutiny. For a while I ceased producing, keeping hidden what I did not destroy. Better to never be seen than viewed as imperfect, right?
Among American artists, the work of Norman Rockwell is widely recognized. In his lifetime, Rockwall created over 4,000 distinctive, heartwarming paintings of Americans engaging in everyday life. Look closely at the image below: People Reading Stock Exchange by Rockwell circa 1930.
I took stock of what was in my closets and drawers. So many things: books, clothing, knick-knacks. If I kept them, I would have to pay to move them. I would be jamming what nicely fit in 2000 sq ft into just under 700.... and I HATE clutter.
I debated selling the furniture. What could I actually get for it? Not really all that much. My ad on Craig's List for the marble dinette set had brought no offers. There was considerable competition.
My friend Natalie, a college student, wanted some of what was in the guest room, along with a chair and table.
"Just take it." I said. "I want to see it put to good use."
With that, I decided to donate the larger items: two dinette sets, a computer armoire, a sleeper sofa and canopy queen bed. I briefly researched what I would need to claim a tax deduction legally. As my total donation would be over $2500, an itemized list (IRS Form 8283) was required. The total from Form 8283 would then be recorded on IRS Form 1040 Schedule A.
I debated to whom I should donate: Goodwill, The Salvation Army? Both are excellent charities but the Salvation Army would come and pick-up my things. Bingo!
I also had a closet full of military uniforms ( I was discharged from the Air Force in March), evening gowns and beauty pageant crowns. Perhaps a theater department?
Chloe, also a college student, was involved with her school's theater department. I texted her, asking if the department was looking for donations to the "theater closet". She responded quickly that her contact would be thrilled to receive my things.
"They are doing a production of 'Carrie'. They really could use the crowns and dresses right away."
"If I give you a receipt, could you have them sign it? Then I can deduct what I donate from my taxes."
"Sure!"
I typed up a list with estimated values. The total came to $1000. Wow! Combined with the other items, I 'd be donating close to $5000. That meant at my current tax rate of 28%, I would "make" $1400 while my old things (many worn only once) would be used and enjoyed.
I began to think long and hard about my art work. It needed to go too. But where? From my days in nursing school, I remembered clinicals in day-treatment facilities and clinics run by the state or non-profit organizations. I recalled the art displays, often donated by local artists. It added a soothing touch to an otherwise sterile environment. I researched various organizations before calling Tarrant County MHMR. Would they want my artwork?
I spoke with Melanie. She was kind and grateful, thanking me for my offer.
"The frames will all be included.' I said. "I'll send you some pictures and measurements. If you can't use any, that's completely fine."
"I will forward them to the manager of one of my clinics."
A few days later she responded. The clinic manager wanted all my paintings. Really? Someone actually liked my art? I had feared I would be mocked and considered just throwing them away. Instead, my creations would brighten where people came for help.
Yes, this would also serve as a tax deduction, but it meant much more. Each had been a labor of love to create, but I never thought anyone else could possibly want them.
I had grown up in a house of unspeakable secrets, taught from my earliest rememberance to present a flawless image. This had extended to the artwork I had produced. Invariable, my "masterpieces", just like myself, could never be "good enough". There was always an imperfection to be obsessed over. The creative impulse withered beneath the blistering scrutiny. For a while I ceased producing, keeping hidden what I did not destroy. Better to never be seen than viewed as imperfect, right?
Among American artists, the work of Norman Rockwell is widely recognized. In his lifetime, Rockwall created over 4,000 distinctive, heartwarming paintings of Americans engaging in everyday life. Look closely at the image below: People Reading Stock Exchange by Rockwell circa 1930.
Do you see it? The kid in the red shirt has three legs. Does this mistake make it unsuitable for public display? I think not. It is still a masterpiece with whimsical charm. The flaw only serves to make the painting more fascinating and memorable. We are reminded that even great artists are human too, each full of beauty and greatness that shines through the flaws and frailties.
I am still fragile. I still fear being hurt. I still batter myself with brutal criticism. I have only recently unlocked the door to my heart, sharing my love that, like my paintings, I hid for so long. I'm still amazed that people accept me and return my affection, filling the aching void with the warmth of friendship.
"Now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love." I Corinthians 13:13 (NKJV)
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