update from sparkleup

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Madison Scott-Clary 2020-10-10 15:00:04 -07:00
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I must have been a very easy child to shop for, because I mostly just loved paper. Paper and pens and rulers. I *really* loved rulers.
When I was a kid in elementary and middle school, my dad would pay be $20 or so to run off blueprints or print and bind presentation books for him at work and I loved it. *Loved* it. I would prowl through his office supply closet at work and just enjoy all of the different pens and pencils and erasers and notepads that he kept in stock. Binder clips. The comb binder. The giant stapler. The boxes and reams and sheaves of paper. The well-tuned whir of the plotter. Even the rank scent of ammonia from the blueprint machine.
When I was a kid in elementary and middle school, my dad would pay be $20 or so to run off blueprints or print and bind presentation books for him and I loved it. *Loved* it. I would prowl through his office supply closet at work and just enjoy all of the different pens and pencils and erasers and notepads that he kept in stock. Binder clips. The comb binder. The giant stapler. The boxes and reams and sheaves of paper.
I must have been a very easy child to shop for, because I mostly just loved paper. Paper and pens and rulers. I *really* loved rulers.
So one day one of my parents, I forgot which, bought me a pad of staff paper, and by then I was already well into playing the saxophone, and I started 'composing'. It wasn't really that, of course. It was mostly writing down embellished versions of my warm-ups and exercises and calling them original compositions. Art may all be derivative, but this stretches that definition quite a bit.