Danya Benson “The Things They Carried” piece
Annie carried paper, bits and pieces of it. Post-it notes, and loose-leaf, computer paper, and stationary, anything she could draw on. It was all crammed into folders, binders, and even folded into squares in her pockets. Secretly, she’d love when people asked what she was doing, hunched over a sketch pad scribbling away with a stub of charcoal. She put on a façade of being totally immersed in her work. She wanted people to admire her drawings, tilt their heads and spout little words of praise. She was almost disappointed when someone would pass by without even a wondering glance. Sometimes she got too involved; she’d spend hours re-drawing a section until the eraser on her 4-H pencil was nothing but a shriveled pink stub. Then, utterly exhausted, she’d set it aside until the piece became a pinching thorn in her side, and she would undoubtedly pick it up again. But there were some pieces that were too demanding, called for too much of her ever diligent attention. Being one who wasn’t used to starting something and not finishing, she would commandeer the art room; spread her supplies wide on the onyx colored counters and go to work, with a careful tedious hand of a surgeon. She did all this for that silent satisfaction, the well earned sigh of completion. Even though she didn’t see any of her peers admire the work that hung in the glass cases of the gallery, she found that she didn’t much mind it. In the end, she created art for her own delight. They carried a number of odd but entirely necessary things: pencils, for one, was a thing they were very particular about. Quills, ink wells, sticks of charcoal, graphite blank sheets of newsprint, paint brushes in various sizes ranging to the tiny fine tipped to the wide and bulky, the ever messy carypas and pastels, a plethora of colors. They had an arsenal of acrylic, temperas, and watercolors paints each painstakingly organized. Almost all of them were meticulous and carried with them palates, soufflé cups, and shallow Tupperware to organize their paints. Most brought gum and mints, something to chew on while thinking, drinks were always offered. Cups of Herbal teas, and hot chocolate were carried in their hands and sipped between the graceful strokes of their pencils. Nora carried, a bright yellow pencil topped with a large heart shaped, rainbow colored eraser. She said it was “lucky” and she never drew quite right without it. Lyn carried with her a set of Prisma Color pencils, which she thought would work better than anything the school could supply. Joan toted back and forth a large black portfolio that she decorated with stickers and designs, because she thought plain black was boring and depressing. She’d use the portfolio to protect her work plus it gave her the added bonus of looking professional.
Other more creative thinkers like Rae carried a small sketch book that held drawings of characters she had created. They were often happy with large eyes and open smiling faces. She would show them to anyone who was willing to see. All of them however carried the title of “Artist”. It wasn’t merely given to them nor did they simply claim it for their own. The title was found in their actions, appreciation of aesthetics, and their work itself.