Every time I ordered something from some art supply store or second-hand bookshop or hardware emporium or haberdashery, it always arrived with an excess of brown butcher paper crumpled in the corners of the cardboard boxes. Cheap fragile musty paper crammed along the hinges and stuffed inside like a Thanksgiving turkey.
I was loathe to throw it out so I saved them. I folded each tattered sheet, smoothing them the best I could and folded them along their perforated seams.
Twelve months of ordering things online. Twelve months of crumpled brown butcher paper.
I must have accumulated hundreds of these wasteful shards of cheap smooth crappy paper.
I suppose I should stop ordering so many things online.
Now it seems like the time is right to draw on them.
For some reason I find myself drawing images of my former professor and mentor David Schoffman. I never actually saw him shirtless.
