Memories, dreams and reflections

Clutter is always on my mind when I'm with the Old Man . He's of a generation schooled in thrift and frugality, but living on in an age of throw-away packaging and disposable gadgetry. An accumulation of saved things builds up around him and he feels overwhelmed by it but finds it equally painful to let any of it go - in case it might be useful. And of course he's right, most items should be re-used or repaired - indeed there's a doorstep collection for recyclables in Camden. Nevertheless he squirrels away jiffy bags (mostly torn), rubber bands (which perish), dead batteries (might have some charge left in them), broken electrical equipment (could be repairable?), plastic fruit trays (so useful), old catalogues (must check), and cardboard boxes (to store more things in). Every time I visit I try to rationalize the hoard. Sometimes I resort to flitting through the streets after dark, laden with surplus stuff, looking for an open skip or an unguarded trade-waste bin to dump it in.

This open-air junk sale I've photographed operates 4 days a week in a nearby alley and attracts a lot of customers. It's obviously sourced from house clearances: the detritus of dispersed families and expired lives, the clutter we accrue and can't let go of until death parts us from it willy-nilly. Henry Thoreau, who famously went to live (briefly!) in the woods in a hut he built himself, opined that A man is rich in proportion to the number of things which he can afford to let alone and somewhere (I can't find the actual words) he described the yard sales that happened after a member of his local community died: neighbours picking through the deceased's possessions and buying things to add to their own collection until such time as they die and the cycle repeats itself.

What would you rescue if you had 10 minutes before your dwelling was destroyed?
What would you pack if you had to flee at a hour's notice?
How much could you carry before exhaustion forced you to leave it by the roadside?
These are dilemmas which people have faced throughout history and are facing today, all around the world, as a result of natural events or of persecution and hostility.

This part of London, Hampstead, is home, still, to countless Jewish refugees and their descendants. Taking pictures, I watched this dapper gent* surveying the orphaned possessions strewn across the pavement - looking but not buying - and I wondered if he might be one of those, and if so, what were his thoughts. He reminded me of Carl Jung, the Swiss (not Jewish) analytical psychologist** and I've pinched my title from Jung's autobiography of the same name, Memories, Dreams and Reflections.

* Here he is again.
** You can see him here talking about death.