Adventures at Riley Street...

I was in a tizzy because I had these two looooooong lists of supplies for both drawing and painting class, and here I was, sick. I dreamt about arriving without them Monday, oh, the shame of it all. So I dragged myself to the supply store yesterday. Lo and behold, big sign, SALE. Loveliest word in the language, in my opinion. I was not the only patron wandering around in a daze clutching syllabi. Fortunately, there was also an army of very knowledgable sales personnel to direct me to all the items that were not where I expected them to be. One even pointed out that there was fixative on sale cheaper than the one I did find. Galkyd? Eraser shield? Tortillions? Hell, even masking tape was a dilemma. But I got most of it, and a little bonus, a really neat portfolio (hey, it was on the list!) on sale, not one of those plastic things with a rubberband closure, oh, nonono. A big canvas one with pockets on the outside and a real zipper! It is now propped up by the door holding my intimidatingly large drawing pads (not sketch pads, drawing pads) and my canvas for my first oeuvre. Now I feel like a total poseur, big phony pretending to be an artist. I think it is like being an alcoholic. You aren't one unless you say you are. Strange but true. Now I have four bags of stuff for school: bookbag, still hella-heavy, for algebra and art history, artbag and portfolio for drawing, and artbag for painting. Each carries its own reading glasses, the one item I cannot do without in class. And finally I get to use that art apron that I was gifted with on a long ago Christmas in painting class, and I am using a flannel shirt older than most of the other students as a workshirt in drawing. Charcoal is mega-messy!