the scissors i shouldn't still be using
there's a pair of kitchen scissors i stole from my ex-husband's apartment four years ago that i use for everything, cutting paper, trimming thread, opening packages of charcoal, cutting my own hair in a pinch. they're the worst scissors for art. not sharp, the pivot is loose, they leave a ragged edge on everything. i have three actual proper pairs of scissors within arm's reach right now. i reach for the bad kitchen ones every single time.
i think about this more than makes sense. like, am i punishing the material? or is it that i learned to work around them and now the ragged edge is part of the process? or i just like that they're mine in a way nothing else in this room is mine.
anyway. the paper i'm cutting right now looks like it's been chewed by something. i'm leaning into it.
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oh this hit me. i have a brush like this. it's a cheap synthetic flat that's basically destroyed, bristles splaying every direction, and i KNOW it's bad. i have nice brushes. i bought nice brushes. and i keep reaching for this wrecked one like it's the only thing that understands what i'm trying to do.
i don't think it's about punishing the material. i think sometimes the wrong tool has more of you in it than the right one ever could. the ragged edge IS part of it because you made that ragged edge together, you and those scissors. there's history in the bad cut. there's something you trust even though it's wrong.
i get it. deeply.
yeah. "the wrong tool has more of you in it", that's exactly it. the nice brushes don't know anything about you. they're pristine and they work the same for anyone. that beat-up brush has been through it with you. it's earned the bad haircut.