Elitist, ostentatious, self-absorbed- a commentary on Gens X,Y, and Z; the Globals; the Millennials; the Digital Natives, or whatever the trendy term is for those under 50? No! I’m simply sharing my impression of the latest exhibit at the ABQ Museum of History and Art (known minimalisty as “aM”.) The exhibit, “Behind Closed Doors: Art in the Spanish American Home 1492-1898,” showcases paintings, furnishings, and household items owned by upper-class families who colonized the Spanish Empire in North and South America.
From huge, intricately carved frames, lavishly costumed Creoles (as American born Spaniards were called) cast their solemn, imperial gazes on us lowly art lovers.  Glamorously gowned ladies, their shawls fastened by silver pins the size of salad plates, sport black velvet beauty spots glued to their chins.  The gents in ornate military garb flaunt their long swords and pose Napoleon-style with a hand shoved chest-high into their jackets (a posture which today is more suggestive of skin rash, than status and style.) All are depicted in exquisite detail to show their wealth and social connections, their unspoken message being:
“Look at me! I’m gorgeous. I’m special. I’m rich and important and fashionable  and a member of the king’s club.  Oh, don’t you envy me?  Please…envy me!”
To be sure that these pompous Creole selfies were seen by as many of the potentially envious as possible, they were placed in the “Sala” – the grand reception room where visitors were received with pageantry and splendor.  According to the museum’s signage, “Salas were the home’s most sumptuously decorated spaces. There, affluence was flaunted…” No kidding!
No Ikea here! Salas were furnished with “solid silver furniture, imported silk wall hangings, and luxurious damask curtains.”

And then…I got back home and walked into  my sala/living room/office/great room- or more accurately, not- so-great-room.  How come all those pretentious Creole tchotchkes looked so precious and arty and desirably decorative  and my stuff looks like clutter?
How come visitors don’t gasp in awe and admiration at my floor to ceiling furnishings, but instead say things like:
“Wow! You’ve got a lot of um…interesting things here.  It’s a little hard to …er…absorb it all. Is that a metal rat?”
Or, as the cable guy, a native New Mexican remarked with a grimace, on spotting the tin lamp, pueblo pottery, kiva ladder, Navajo rug, and other Spanish Market and Indian Market finds:
“You’re not from around here, are you?”
Eeeeeek!  Was our East Coast enthusiasm  for New Mexico tourist art that obvious?!

To add to my dismay, and with my sala score sinking ever lower, I was confronted by the lead article in The Wall Street Journal’s Off-Duty lifestyle section entitled “Me, My Shelfies, and I.” It seems the shelfie is a new social media phenomenon among the trendy and upwardly egotistic. Shelfies are, of course, the knick-knack counterpart to selfies.  To make a shelfie, you design an “artful” arrangement of prized possessions that grace the tabletops, mantels, and, yes, shelves in your mortgaged-to-the-hilt McMansion. Next, with your mobile device, you take a picture of said artful arrangement and send it to your multitude of friends and followers on Instagram. Your unspoken message being-

“Look at me!  I’m gorgeous. I’m special. I’m rich and important and fashionable…Please envy me!”
The article included a few choice shelfies: a bowl, a shell, and some ceramic thing that looked like a urinal. Ho hum. A pile of notebooks, a dish of office drawer dumpings, and a cup of pencils. Nu?  Hairy twigs in a misshapen pot. Really?  A pine cone, a plate of leftovers…
Hey! Shabby sala and all, I could get in on this!  If I just take a month’s worth of newspapers and magazines off the desk and clear away a mountain of winter clothes and blankets layered on the dresser like an archaeological dig and get rid of…Wait!  Who am I fooling?  Why dust off the dresser and dig out the Dresden?  Show it like it is!  Forget the shelfies. Snap and share Shlumpies !  That’s right! Shlumpies! A photo of your possessions in all their earthy disarray on whatever surface they happen to be cluttering.  It’s Creole conspicuous consumption for the rest of us! I feel a trend coming on!
Shlumpies require no artful arrangement of rare and costly collectables or precisely posed platters and pincushions. To take a shlumpie, just point and shoot the stuff you already have. Receipts, mail, market flyers, and open cracker boxes scattered on the kitchen table – click!
A dozen wooden prairie dogs and two beaded lizards crowded on the shelf – send!  The miscellaneous junk you stashed in the hall closet when your mother- in- law dropped by – share!

And if The Wall Street Journal wants to do a a follow-up article, they’re welcome to step into my sala and snag a shlumpie. There’s a million of them  just waiting for their digital close- ups.
Let’s get creative with clutter. Overflowing laundry baskets are the new opulence. Instagram, here we come!
Neat and narcissistic is so 15th century.

Written by: Ronni Sims on May 14, 2014.