The past few days have been somewhat unproductive, not just in relation to art -- but nearly anything really -- so you must bear with me as I divert (again). Does it make my periodic whining more acceptable if I acknowledge that I realize I can be a whiner sometimes? (Insert amused chuckle here.) Sometimes I just can't help myself: life and it's participants are simply too interesting, funny, tragic, endearing, etc., etc. It is usually quite tongue-in-cheek anyway. Really. It is.
On Saturday afternoon I was drawing away on a mostly-completed horse piece, quite focused actually, and came to the last inch of my Faber Castell Polychromos Warm Grey #6 in it's pencil extender. No problem: I went to the drawer of greys to get another, only to find there wasn't one there. What? When it was all said and done, I think I searched through fourteen pencil drawers and ten pencil cups, as well as across two somewhat cluttered table tops. No Polychromos Warm Grey #6 to be found. I was dumbfounded, and if you could see the number of grey pencils I have, or pencils in general , you would marvel at this too. (Some of you obsessives know what I am talking about.) I considered substituting another color or combination of colors, but felt I had already used too much of the elusive #6 in the drawing -- and still needed to use a great deal more. I mean really: how could one have approximately 400 different colors across four brands, and probably well over 1500 pencils in total, and not a single Warm Grey #6?? Amazing. Time to do a pencil order.
Ellie, this morning -- in her blissful puppy world, clearly not experiencing any remorse : )