ART! *is buried under art supplies*

I’ve spent the last couple days cleaning out my art supplies.  This may not sound like that much of a task, but I cram an entire studio into the confines of an 7′ by 1′ lazy susan/medicine cabinet thing.

Well, not quite the entire thing.  The easel, the portfolio, the huge sheets of paper and mat board, giant sketch pads and the King Kong sized clipboard don’t fit.  They sort of lean of against the wall in the corner.  They just do it neatly now.  But everything else I’ve crammed in there: a tool box full of oil paints, acrylic paints, fabric paint and brushes; another toolbox filled with drawing and characoal supplies; a third tool box filled with beading supplies; more beading supplies in a plastic bin; a super-sized cat litter box of soap making supplies; a size 14 men’s shoebox full of clay and sculpting tools; and a two inch stack of rainbow colored cardstock, a metal tin full of stamps and stencils, and one of those neat scrapbooking boxes full of scrapbooking paper.  And, of course, there are a half dozen scissors, three rulers, four kinds of glue, two rolls of tape, an entire jar of pencils and one of those little wooden mannequin things stacked on one shelf.

I never realized that I had a hobby before, but I guess this qualifies.  I suppose it’s just as expensive as video games.

In my defense it’s not all  my stuff.

Who am I kidding?  It’s all my stuff.  Some of it has just been bought by other people for reasons that have nothing to do with me.  It’s just…well, mine now.  Because I had all of the tools for it already.  And the rest of supplies that were exactly the same as the stuff that the other person bought because nobody thought to ask me if we a) had it or b) if they could use it.

The problem with art is that it…stacks up.  Artists of any level know what I’m talking about.  Heck, parents of small children know what I’m talking about.  You make something, but there’s nothing to do with it after making it, so it goes in the “look what I did” pile.  And it’s worse if you’ve taken an art class.  I’ve taken several.  The stuff I threw away was an embarrassment and the stuff I kept I still can’t believe I did.  It took me years to get rid of all the clay dragons I made – I don’t know what I’m going to do with the stack of paintings now sitting on the basement floor.

And I don’t know what I’m going to do with all these art supplies.  I mean, use them, obviously – but I don’t have any projects in mind.

Okay, that’s a lie.  I want to do a painting for a cousin who’s getting married this summer.  I have a stack of fabric in the sewing room to be cut out into a dress as soon as I have the time or inclination.  I have a shell necklace that I keep meaning to put together again for my mother – I’m also planning to make her something for Mother’s Day.  I’m also making my grandmother something (okay, yes, clearly being evasive, just in case word gets around) for both Mother’s Day and her birthday, which is the day before.  And I have a very large stained glass window laying on a table downstairs waiting on a sheet of blue glass.

So I have plans.

Big plans.


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