I have to go buy some art supplies for my mom today. This is a very dangerous thing for me, as art stores are my kryptonite. Not because I am an artist--no, no, then it wouldn't be so bad--but because as soon as I step foot into an art store, I'm convinced I'm THISCLOSE to my life's fulfillment in the creative arts. That maybe, if I just had the right tools, all of that latent talent would reveal itself, and my new paints will fly from my new brush onto my new canvas, and galleries will seek my magnificent works, and in only a few short weeks, the SFMoMA will call to interview this Fresh Young Talent, demanding to know where I've been hiding all these years. Or if I don't feel like painting on canvas, I can tackle my new textiles that I will stamp with my new rubber pads, on which I will carve designs with my new knife, after squirting my new textile paint onto my new piece of glass, rolled out with my new brayer roller. I'll be the next Lotta Jansdotter! I think as I survey the colors in the shop and imagine hand-stamped leaves adorning the corners of the new pillowcases I'd buy that afternoon.
And then I come home, arms overflowing with supplies, brimming with enthusiasm and ideas. Supplies that will never be touched more than once every six months, when I need to decorate a postcard.
This is why I can't go in art stores and have forbidden myself more than passing entry. But maybe a little bit of stationery can't hurt? Maybe some vellum, with glassine envelopes? That will inspire me to write more letters! I NEED it...But NO! No, today, I will be strong. Oh, yes. I will be strong.