When is too much, too much??

In her 1963 autobiography, Emmeline Pankhurst dealt, quite sensitively with the very real addiction of clutter and its impact on the wider world of the individual. In Emmeline’s case it was clutter of stuffed mammals and reptile’s covering each and every surface of her her Salford “2 up, 2 down” terraced house. It is a little known fact that the leader of the Suffragette movement was a Grade One Taxidermist and the first person and woman in Britain and all its Empire, licensed to stuff deceased politicians. As Emmeline takes the reader further and further in to her own descent into the deceased and the sawdust-stuffed, one message rings loud and true; “we each have to deal with our own addictions, face up to them and defeat them before the bodies of the toothy and clawed dead cover the walls and surfaces of our domesticity”

As history has shown, Emmeline was an inspiring woman for many reasons and I am no different to the millions who have followed her voice throughout the past years. However, there is one main different difference in my addiction. I don’t kill, stuff and mount my victims. No, my addiction is to shoot, lock away in frames and then hang them from my walls. My addiction is photographs and photograph frames.

I have moved house. I have moved in to my own house. I have many bare, blank and spare walls. I also have many, many, many photographs and an increasing volume of photograph frames in which to store my victims. What started out as a minimalist attempt at the odd cluster or two has descended and risen to an adoption of the Victorian virtue of “more is more is more is more.” I simply cannot have enough photos on my walls. I also simply cannot pass by a shop that sells photo frames. I cannot stop taking photos and my brain cannot stop imagining them up on my walls, somewhere in my new house, with my walls and my space. I have a problem and I need help, please help me.

My names is PDKimages and I am an addict……..

blue headed demon

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