I went to a grant workshop last week for artists. The person giving the workshop asked for a show of hands how many of us were painters. 98% of the room put a hand in the air. Musicians got two, performing artists, just a few. Then he asked how many sculptors. One lone person up front raised up her pinky finger.

Footnote: It was not I that lone voice. I raised my hand with the rest of the painters. It’s a weird psychological thing, how you end up slotting yourself, or even feel about how you spend your time in the studio. Just because I’ve painted for a long time (drawing conveniently falls into that category too luckily) that is what I think I should be doing. I have spent more time in the past few months pouring things into molds, and am hoping to cast some more soon to make even more (production is down!). Yet in my minds eye they are containers for color. Pretty silly, but something to think about, of course it doesn’t matter.