After my 1:00 appointment yesterday, I swung by my favorite art store, Texas Art Supply. Every time I go there I walk the aisles like I own the place. If something is out of place, I put it back. If something needs a little straightening, I straighten it. I enjoy looking.
In Denver it was Meininger Art Supply. I spent hours there, looking and wishing and hoping and imaginating. I spent a lot of money there too. Guiry's was second. Here, Texas Art Supply is the only such store that I know of. How sad. There should be more, but . . . Texas is not famous for its artists and authors and mail artists. I hope someone proves me wrong.
I bought writing paper! Am grinning so hard. Is a good thing we're not connected on FaceTime, or I'd scare the BeBeezus out of you. I bought a pad for $9. The surface is smooth and it loves ink. My LAMY fairly skated across the surface when I wrote last night. I wrote three pages before I knew it. I have a feeling it will take COPIC markers like a floor takes wax. I'll test my theory tonight.
I threw in a new bag for my mail art must-haves. Like my rubber cement picker upper. I've bought at least one gross over the last year or two, yet can never find one when I need it. I'll keep my red and white LAMYS in this bag. A pair of my favorite scissors, my thread counter . . .
(Do you reckon these all say "Open Here?")
. . . at least one box of ink cartridges,
. . . and respect for my darling planet Earth.
Hmm. My darling? Oh! I forgot to take a photo of the envelopes I bought. They're silly little things but they suited my mood, so I had to get them. I have had a string of lovely days recently. I celebrated with a visit to the one place in Houston where I can rub elbows with artists. They are some of the rudest, most impolite, self-centered. . . At least the ones I meet there seem to be. Or maybe they're insecure, starving, are single focused . . . And thieves. Lordy, mercy me. I never imagined artists to be shoplifters. But they are. Well, some of them are. The ladies who work there educated me on the issue. I always wondered why they followed me up and down every aisle, so one day I asked why.
I cannot imagine ever stealing a tube of paint, a brush, turpentine, or anything else. If I needed something and had empty pockets, I would ask first. I'd get the samples of paint offered by diy places, like Home Depot, and use those before I would risk jail. But, then again, I have never known such desperation that's strong enough to highjack me and push me to resort to theft. And, if I were ever too poor to afford stationery, I would write to you with a stick, in wet sand. Then I would take a picture of my words. I would upload them to my MacBook, and print them. I think I might just try that! LOL. It would have to be a notecard though, 'cause a letter would require lots and lots of photos.
Sheesh. I reckon I could go to Galveston and write it on the beach. Now that's an idea.