I have an old set of Japanese dishes shaped like various fish, the edge of the tail on one of them chipped off long ago, and ever since has been reconciled among my art supplies. It's funny though, that shallow bowl gets more use then those deemed fit to sit among food and guests.
A watercolor palette also came to my recent attention; underside encrusted in black, remnant paper stuck on top of that -- the disaster of a spilled bottle of India ink from adolescence. I'd always assumed the designer tin ruined, but in fact, hot water and gentle perseverance with steel wool resurrected it. The few silvery scratches left behind only add another memento to the tool's essence.
There is something about art that always feels allegorical, metaphorical, mystical, and foolish. If one has been creating their entire life, the tools of trade also become a tactical trip through time, a deeply personal adventure, and a reminder that in art, mistakes can become strokes of genius. All is not lost.
Any similar tales to tell? IDOL HANDS
P.O. Box #193051
San Francisco, CA 94119