The Irreducible Minimum

Is this reducible?

Is there an Irreducible Minimum near you? - a pile of papers, fabrics, whatever that, even when rigorously sorted, even when 80% goes in the bin and the rest gets filed, has a few things that defy filing and somehow can't be thrown away ... yet ...

And then there are the out-of-sight lurkers...

Hidden from sight in my various cupboards and rooms are files of papers labelled "To Be Sorted"  (and there's a non-hidden location that I'm all too aware of - more of that later*). These papers comprise notes from long-forgotten workshops, inspirational clippings from art magazines, and goodness knows what else (things that just never managed to get thrown away). 

So ordinary ... and lovely somehow,
the blue with its orange bars

These files of items gathered in pre-internet days should be reducible - or perhaps binned unseen. Notes on any technique you'd want to try (and I want less and less of this) are available online, on websites, on youtube. Inspirational images can be found at the touch of a search button. Many of the books we've so thoughtfully collected can be replaced by ebooks, freeing shelf space.

Freeing - that's what getting rid of things should feel like. I love to see the wood on the corner of my desk, and the bottom of that dumping-ground of a big bowl. And yet ... having that heap of papers is a reminder that "something needs doing" - and it provokes me to do "something more interesting". Perversity, don't you love it? It can lead to all sorts of surprises. Sometimes we need something to push against. 

The Irreducible Minimum pushes back. It's a bit of conscience. It goads us on to other things, perversity notwithstanding. (Is it perverse not to be organised?)

You could argue that being "perfectly organised" is a waste of time - a waste of opportunity, even. Where will we get juxtaposition, serendipity, surprises, delight, sparks, if there isn't a heap of papers, a scrapbag, to rootle through -- to use your hands, get that tactile (and gestural) input that comes from physical involvement? Tapping a few keys to get instantaneous access isn't the same thing.

The counterpoint to the Irreducible Minimum is the Very Necessities. These all have their place, where they are returned to immediately after use and can be found when needed. This aspect of being organised is a habit (which does however need to be established). It's automatic to gather all the scissors and put them into their flowerpot at the end of the day, and to put the passport in its habitual place after the trip; to connect the phone to its charger at bedtime, and to make sure the stapler is next to the tape dispenser.

(Writing this post is proving very helpful in getting the desk area tidy - extraneous objects must be removed before the photo is taken!)

In my Irreducible Minimum pile - along with reminders of things I fully intend to blog about one day - are, for example, a printout of a 1998 email from an Australian friend about the pre-tense-trip stiff shoulder syndome "experienced by middle class, middle aged, professional women flying with mixed feelings between continents towards family"
- a handout on the elements of composition, with a checklist for your work
- an explanation of S and Z twist in threads, printed on the back of a photocopy of page 6 of the Education and Debate section of BMJ, 31 August 2002
- a page of miscellaneous quotes, including a spanish proverb: God says take what you want and pay for it.
- the leaflet for City of London Tree Trail - a nice walk when the weather gets better and the leaves come out - ah, available as a pdf ... but so much nicer as a leaflet

Would taking photos of these items make it possible to dispose of them? Is mentioning them here enough to allow them to go? Why am I hanging on to them? Do they have some use, or is it just sentiment that keeps them here?

Questions to feed into the subconscious ... and in the meantime, a chance to find homes for the leaflets of upcoming exhibits and events, for artists' books to be looked at another day...

And the remainder of the papers will be put in yet another "to be sorted" folder, to be tucked somewhere and rediscovered in months or years, and opened with a sense of anticipation, not dread ... these things were worth hanging on to for some reason, will they still be intriguing on rediscovery? If not, you and I have permission to simply bin them, leaving ourselves breathing space.

Air routes of the world, a Guardian centrefold

something else of interest from the newspaper

* The non-hidden location mentioned earlier is a former kitchen cabinet which between 1994 and, oh, 2004 or so, collected "what's on" leaflets and all the images harvested from magazines etc that I considered lovely and interesting.

It's in my son's room and for quite a while now he's been gently suggesting I should "deal with it" - a suggestion that has made my heart sink. As soon as the subconscious has pondered the questions for a while, its time will come ... before my next birthday, perhaps?

Reduced (relocated), if only temporarily