Each year I buy three calendars. One is the same 13 month planner, a week at a glance, that I have been buying and using for well over 40 years. I’ve developed it into a first rate tool – every spot has its own specific use. People try to convince me that I’d be more efficient using an on-line calendar. They get annoyed when I say I’ll have to go home and check it before I can commit to something. But I can’t imagine life without it.
The other 2 that I buy each year come from the AGO gift shop some time in November (before all the good ones are gone.) One is for the wall in front of my desk. The other is for my kitchen. They have no utilitarian purpose except to tell me what day it is if I need to know. But they seem essential, perhaps a throw-back to a predigital time.
It takes me some time to select the pair each year. Some years I am drawn to the Impressionists. Some years to women artists, some years to the Group of Seven, some years to Old Masters, some to seascapes, some to Indigenous artists. I went through a phase of Portraits of Women Reading. The last 2 years I’ve been drawn to Japanese artists in my bedroom (for the calm) and Kandinsky in my kitchen (for the colour).
I’m sure an analyst would be able to tell a lot about my life’s progression from these choices, but I’m content to just look at each new month’s revelation.