Warning - this post goes down multiple layers of large rabbit trails. I've attempted to make it relevant to beer drinkers, but I think most of its relevance lies in artistic expression and life in general, as it's more of a philosophical pondering. Hopefully our readers will appreciate the small departure. To be honest I'm not sure the post has any real point, it's just a written account of something that's been going on in my brain the last few days. :)
Recently we've written a number of
articles on aging beer in your personal cellar, and so this topic has been on my mind a lot. I also just started teaching again after the winter break. One of the classes asks students to look at some of the more symbolic forms of creativity that go on from a day-to-day basis. All of a sudden these two worlds (art and beer) conceptually collided, as they will occasionally, and it hit me that collecting beer, storing it away, making cellaring space in your basement is certainly a form of artistic expression. Perhaps the collector has not thought of what they do in these terms but I'd like to explain where my head is at here, and I have to go on a tangent or two to make sense of it.
In 2009 my wife and I went on a 10,000 mile road trip. We started in Portland, drove to Michigan and then up into Canada, cross country to the Yukon Territory before heading into Alaska and then back down the Canadian coastline. In the Yukon we had the opportunity to try to drive up to the Arctic Circle but after a couple hours we were afraid our little car wasn't going to be able to handle it. We decided to stop, so we got out of the car and went on a little walk in the sub-arctic tundra. I grabbed a twig off one of the plants as a memento and the little branch has sat in the windshield of our car ever since. At first the twig was purple, green, orange, and red but overtime it turned brown, and is now quite frail. I kept it in the car because every time I look at it I think about that three-month period of my life, looking back it is my favorite time. About a year ago my wife asked me if we could get rid of the branch because, frankly, it's getting old, messy, and it's not really that pretty any more. I said No Way, there's no chance in hell that I'm getting rid of that plant, it reminds me of some of the best times ever, how could we get rid of that!