Basement - Brick Shelf

      In my basement there is a shelf against the north wall. It is constructed of cinder blocks and wood planks. This shelf been in my last four residences. It has moved with me every time I have moved and was at one point much larger. I store my art supplies on this shelf and even a good amount of books before it was paired down. There are various paints, usually primary colors, charcoal pencils, paint brushes, pastels both oil and chalk, paper, pens, pencils and one unintentional artist book. (I will get to that later) Lately when I go down to the basement I don't even think about this shelf. I should.
      This shelf is filled with reminders, and almost all of them lead back to my divorce with painting. Maybe it's just a trial separation but we have not been talking lately. So I have been avoiding this shelf for some time. It's as though we are awkward friends who have had a falling out, but we still run into each other every once in a while. You have to try and think of something to say but it never feels right so you find yourself avoiding that place. Then you feel guilty about avoiding. Today I am not.
     Basements love covering your memories with dust and dirt. The wood of my favorite brushes is warm when I hold them, even though it is always cold down here. When I finger the charcoal pencils I am reminded of my favorite medium. Black, white and all the wonderful shades of grey. Always so beautiful to me. I am struck by the number of highlighters I have. I laugh at the fact the most do not even work due to use and I have not thrown them away. It must be because I once turned a college notebook into an artist book with the highlighter as my main tool and several blue/black office pens as my secondary tools. Working in a call center in my mid twenties lead to more than one of these little books. I only kept one. Sometimes I will flip through it but it usually makes me feel old.
      The last time I paid any real attention to my art supplies was almost a year ago. I was commissioned by a friend to paint a picture for auction at the opening of a play at The Alchemist Theater. It got one bid that turned out to be fake. It was apparently submitted by a man who later had a nervous breakdown and was removed from the theater. I never picked up the painting from the theater and they actually have several of my pieces. One hangs in the main lobby/bar. It is of my ex. It used to hang in my apartment until I realized how much I love Erin and it needed to go. It has been some time since I have been to the Alchemist so it may not be displayed anymore. If you see it you will know it by the woman floating out to sea on a red couch. Just like my ex she is always out of reach. I knew then when I painted it.