I'm not sure when I've had a better Saturday morning. Today I pulled out the standing easels--mainstays of the teaching studio I closed a couple of years ago--and went for a drive. Like Santa in summer, I delivered them to former students. Every one of them had expressed interest in having, not just any easel, but one of the sturdy handbuilt lime green easels they'd learned to paint on sometime in the last fifteen years.
Now, instead of gathering cobwebs in my shed, those easels are going to gather more paint splatters and charcoal dust in improvised studios throughout the region. I don't need furniture to remind me of the glory days of the big black pig studio. I have friends for that. And now more of my friends have easels.
Hmm. I wonder who needs paintbrushes?