From One Artist to Another

I was recently in a consignment shop looking for funky vintage clothing when I happened upon a small pile of decrepit-looking, dusty old feathered birds peeping out of a half-open drawer. Not willing to let them spend an eternity there unwanted and ignored, and in addition to the fact that they're birds (which I adore), I scooped them up, save for one really ratty one with a missing eye. A few minutes later I felt guilty for having abandoned that one and so gathered up the sad little eyeless one as well.

When I finally finished my clothing spree and made my way to the register, the lady who owns the shop told me she had another bird she hadn't priced yet and threw it in for free (along with the one-eyed fellow who also was free of charge). And then in a pile of things she was still checking in, a rather large deer made of real fur caught my eye. David and Griffin were utterly repulsed by it so I passed on it, but there was a tiny fawn that I simply had to have. A few weeks later when I returned to the shop, a twin to the first fawn had been added to the shelf of creepy animals, so he too was scooped up and brought home.

The story behind all these little creatures (and many more still in that vintage shop) is that they belonged to an elderly collage artist who had recently passed away and his son, not at all interested in the oddball objects his dad had laying about his studio, instead chose to consign them rather than keep them. I not only like the little things for their oddness, but I'm rather enamored of the idea that one artist would give a home to the unwanted objects of another artist. I'm not entirely sure what to do with them yet, but when it's meant to happen, something will come to me loud and clear. And in the meantime, the birds have all been safely tucked away where my cat won't be attracted to the feathers from which they're made, and the two furry little fawns have a place of honor on my dresser where they never cease to mildly creep out David every time he walks by them.