Art supplies, stat

Last spring, my choir's year-end party was held at a soprano's house (the soprano with the perpetually pinched face, who is a different one from the Rosh Hashanah-rehearsal soprano; many of them seem to have large, accommodating apartments), that had an enormous open roof, overlooking both the Guggenheim and the Central Park reservoir. Nice.

Due to the general disorganization of my choir -- which I'm mostly fine with -- the food to booze ratio at this party was something like one madeleine (baked by Pedestrian Rage) to one bottle of wine. Our concert had been a success, the weather was fine; spirits were high.

I tell you this by way of explanation. When the alto with control issues asked me whether I'd be willing to take over as concert coordinator for the fall, in that setting, in that mood, in that state of intoxication... what could I do but say yes?

Which is why tonight I'm drawing little baroque doodads to include as graphical design elements on our tickets and programs. This is not part of the job I signed up for -- that has more to do with trying to get a dozen or so technologically challenged people to respond to my email messages -- but I've become a lot more confident in my artistic abilities in the last few years, and I thought maybe I could come up with a signature look, or a logo, for the choir, before sending the instructions to the printer tomorrow. You know, in an evening.

So far, no good. I gave up on pencil and ink drawings, and turned to watercolors. The ornamental style I have in mind requires a certain amount of precision. Mine is a more abstract style, as it turns out. And I've run out of dark green paint. How can you create anything with a wintery theme without dark green paint, I ask you?