Today brought a small trumpet blast of good news. I’ve been contacted by the La Mirada Arts Colony to do a paid demonstration. Paid. Demonstration. Two words that make an artist’s heart do a little tap dance. I chose my specialty watercolor technique, the one that happens in the dark, where the painting isn’t just traced by line but by shape, gradient, and color memory. It’s like drawing with intuition instead of eyesight. A little nerve-racking. A lot magical.
So naturally, I asked Mom if we could go to the art store to stock up on what I’d need. She suggested I use some of her supplies instead. And to be fair, her materials are nice. Some of them very professional. But for this technique, I’m picky in the way only artists and coffee snobs understand. The paper has to be right. The feel. The absorbency. The way the pigment settles in. I need 100 percent cotton Arches watercolor paper. Anything less and the painting feels like it’s wearing shoes that don’t quite fit.
When it became clear we weren’t heading to the art store, I did what modern artists do. I went online and bought everything myself.
The total came to $330.
That number blinked at me from the screen like a dare. But then I did the math. A pack a day at over ten dollars a pack for a month. That money would literally have gone up in smoke. Instead, it’s turning into paper, pigment, and possibility. Instead of ashes, I get art. Instead of coughing, I get color.
That feels like a pretty good trade.
Mom gets her rest. I get my supplies. The cravings tried to tap me on the shoulder for a moment, but I just thought about all the money I can now spend on things that don’t burn away in five minutes. The urge vanished like it got bored and went home.
A paid demo. Fresh paper. New brushes. A future that smells like watercolor instead of cigarettes.
I got this. 🎨🚭
by Dan and Bonkers
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