Oh, my. I had today off and happily went to the printmaking studio to practice burnishing and sanding and generally trying to erase mistakes that I've made. I wanted to see Vijay Kumar, who is a founding member and teacher at the studio, as well as a friend from way back when I hired him at NYFA to be an artist advisor. I haven't seen him in five years! So that was great. Then, I went to visit Lystra at NYFA and realized (yes, yes, I am very, very slow at these things) that my old workplace is the building right next to the Trump SoHo tower where that construction worker was killed. She SAW the guy that afternoon, and he was just there, dead and decapitated, for hours until they took him away. I've been walking past that site for almost a month now, not even noticing it was what it was. Yikes.
Anyhow, that's not the story I was meaning to tell. After I left Lystra, I headed up to 29th Street (wait, one more interjection: I'm sitting on the 1 train, thinking about how I feel so at home on NYC subways, when I hear a woman's voice and look up to see Mirah! Who lives in San Francisco!). On an old piece of advice given months and months ago from Tam, I went to visit Habu. It is a very, very dangerous place to go. These people sell hemp bark!!! [This is where you write down "hemp bark" as the gift to give to me always and forever.] Habu is a Japanese showroom that sells handspun, handwoven, hand-knitted, and hand-dyed textiles and yarn. It's insane. I ended up back at the studio with four skeins of paper yarn: bamboo, ramie, pine, and linen. And I made everyone else touch it. I'm working on a piece that requires more delicate paper, and I can't make it in my current lack of a paper studio state. I hate to buy things like this when I want to make them myself, but I figured I might as well get the best. I'm sad that I have to go to sleep and can't just knit these forever.