Last night we went to Hickory for our co-op's (Full Circle Arts) long awaited live auction. All in all, it was a surprisingly successful time. We even made a buck or two. But the best of it was meeting other artists whose work I have loved from first sighting. There is nothing like pursuing these contacts: Instantly, issues and discoveries near and dear to the heart are the focus of rapidly moving conversations. I have missed that and have forgotten its value, buried down here in the studio, mulling over questions asked and answered by myself.
In other news....
On the eve of our Irish trip, when access to money is at a premium, I've just ordered about $150-worth of brushes. Do I already have brushes? Why, indeed, yes. But to you, Dear Blog, I have a confession to make: I have a fetish for brushes. I buy brushes when I have no specified use for them because they are exquisitely made (by nuns in Brittany, for example) or because some rare, soon-to-be-extinct red martin fox in Siberia sacrificed a tip of his tail to be bound in a seamless nickle-plated ferrule for my tabletop. Some of them come in elegant packaging, sunk cunningly in slots of felt-lined boxes. Brushes are beautiful. I clean them lovingly with Ivory soap and brush cleaner after each use, and they remain in good shape for years. This does not mean that I needn't add to my collection: I buy brushes the way gourmet cooks buy kitchenware, poring over catalogues of shiny, silver-chromed implements the rest of us have hardly heard of, let alone felt a need for.
Now I'm waiting for them to arrive. The anticipation builds. This is exciting, and I'll tell you more tomorrow!
PW
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