Typewriters, Bell Aliant reps and flying pennies
My brother Caleb came to visit the studio last week. Disaster imminent.
Let me put this situation in context: Caleb is a big six-foot-two mega-athlete with more energy than is humanly healthy and blissfully unaware of physical space he consumes and the path of destruction he leaves in his wake. My studio is small. With wet paintings everywhere. Oh goody.
We had the brainwave of making new artwork labels with an old typewriter I have at the studio. Caleb thought that was BRILLIANT and was entertained for a whole eight and a half minutes. A phone call from a Bell Aliant rep distracted him - he got to the phone before I did, answered with a highly professional 'Jooooones Gallery', and then decided to terrorize the rep by bellowing 'HELLLLLLOOOO!' repeatedly into the receiver. She hung up.
Caleb, no longer preoccupied with telemarketers or typewriters, dug some pennies out of my cash register and started shooting them across the studio. 'LOOKHOWFASTTHATWENT!' he tells me, as I envision pennies embedded in my newly finished paintings. I politely asked him to stop, underscored with a mild threat of disembowelment.
Mom arrived just as Caleb was starting to experiment with my painting palette ('Can I paint something?!) and took him away to expend energy elsewhere. Moms are just awesome.