Here beginneth the Artist's Tale

Looby Journal #4: Including my journey to collect creative relics, dreaming of an Artist's Valhalla, and sketchbook musings.

Hello friends!

I spent last Friday travelling with my youngest kid (above right - they are taller than me now) to get art 'n' craft supplies. I say travelling because when you live on a small island, sometimes the only way to get the stuff you need is to catch an early boat to a bigger island, drive down a packed highway to the nearest city, and then dash about town, hitting all the places of importance before driving back up the highway again to catch an afternoon boat. It feels epic. Not quite Homer's Odyssey epic, or "I have to get home to Australia" epic, but exhausting enough just to buy some fabric and a few tubes of paint. There's a lot of sitting and waiting, driving and parking, glancing at the time to ensure you can catch a boat to get you home for dinner. Of course, there's always the far more accessible online shopping version of this, but if you want to feel the texture of the fabric you need to buy to make a garment, there's only one way to do it. My sewing kid is making a suit, and if we are going to drop $200 on wool fabric we need to sample the goods. 

What these shopping excursions really feel like are medieval pilgrimages. We set off in the early morning to expand our horizons, we bring back relics, and it changes our lives. We pack snacks and drinks, blankets and books, journals and pencil cases for the road. Sometimes, if we know it's going to be a particularly long day, we pack a change of clothes, medications, and toothbrushes. There is always a chance that we might miss the last ferry (or, more recently, it might get cancelled due to staffing issues), and we may need to spend the night somewhere. We've been doing this journey every few months for the last 12 years (minus a couple due to covid restrictions), but even so, we still feel like tourists in the city, Chaucer-like pilgrims collecting our art supplies for our creative lives. I know that sounds a little overblown, but the truth is that when you live on a little island, you need to romanticise such things, otherwise it feels like an enormous effort for very minimal return. Living on an island is beautiful and idyllic in many ways, but it's also an epic pain in the ass.

Here is our Friday medieval pilgrim route: