Cory Potter

Guess My Hobby

It’s not uncommon for my hobby to put me in some strange situations. When I get up from the couch, I’m often covered in tiny bits of paper that fall to the carpet like confetti and don’t always vacuum up as well I think they should. I guard sandwich bags full of interestingly-shaped barcodes, body parts of all shapes and sizes, and flowers like they are fine china. I have several bookshelves full of unread fashion magazines, musty 1920s art school catalogs, rolled Broadway show posters, and a sea of used books and calendars covering everything from outer space to classic cars to paranormal phenomena to high school biology to sheet music to Katy Perry to ballet fundamentals to erotic coloring books to mid-century modern furniture to prison photographs to fine art and everything in-between. I’ve gotten used to falling asleep on the couch in a sitting position instead of laying down because I often have a pile of papers next to me that I’m mining for gold. It’s not uncommon for me to try to sort things into piles that I’m collecting for an upcoming project: straws in the bag in the kitchen, butterfly wings in that box, used envelopes with patterned insides go on the shelf near the boxes of glitter. I wake up in the middle of the night and send myself incoherent emails of “great ideas” and how to execute them and then decipher the directions in the morning. Then they are added to folders with hundreds of similar ideas, just so my well of inspiration never runs dry. I find myself making copies of inappropriate images, sometimes body parts, at work so I can have access to the color copier and the ability to flip or enlarge an image. Then I check the copier several times to make sure I don’t leave any weird evidence that could come back to me. I often find myself googling the oddest specific things: “woman’s leg with fishnets facing left”, “profile of fish with open mouth”, “armpit of muscular man with arm up”. I’ve smoothed out and folded up used wrapping paper and put it into my pocket because I can’t wait to use my hexagon hole punch on it and add it to the background I’ve been working on. People regularly give me boxes full of old clothes, books, or jewelry that were destined for the Goodwill until I asked if I could have them. I’m used to cramps in my hand or the mark the scissors left on my thumb after spending hours cutting as perfect a circle as I can.