sharpie shrapnel

I have a riduclous amount of art supplies.  Beyond ridiculous.  It's like someone magically fit an entire Hobby Lobby into a shoebox and mailed it to me.  I opened it, then BOOM

Acrylics and brushes and findings and rub-ons went everwhere.  My living room has never recovered.

Still, I keep getting stuck mid-project without whatever crafting I need to continue.  Tonight it's spray adhesive and some sort of glazing medium.

But really, these things haven't been around forever, and great art has.  I like what Hugh MacLeod says:

The more talented somebody is, the less they need the props.
Abraham Lincoln wrote The Gettysberg Address on a piece of ordinary stationery that he had borrowed from the friend whose house he was staying at.


James Joyce wrote with a simple pencil and notebook. Somebody else did the typing, but only much later.


Van Gough rarely painted with more than six colors on his palette.


I draw on the back of wee biz cards. Whatever.


There's no correlation between creativity and equipment ownership. None. Zilch. Nada.


Actually, as the artist gets more into his thing, and as he gets more successful, his number of tools tends to go down. He knows what works for him. Expending mental energy on stuff wastes time. He's a man on a mission. He's got a deadline. He's got some rich client breathing down his neck. The last thing he wants is to spend 3 weeks learning how to use a router drill if he doesn't need to.

This guy is full of great stuff.  For real.  Go buy his book.  Actually, buy two, and give one to me.