Parfume
I love the smell of my pencil box. Wood, graphite, rubber erasers, a smell that triggers my emotions and memories on multiple levels. It’s a childhood smell… linked to school, to mom, and even to my father. Some of the few good memories I have of him were the times I got to go to work with him installing cabinets, and woodsy-sawdust smells always remind me of that.
My real relationship with pencils started as a teenager, when I started to improve my drawing skills. I don’t have any special memory of my first set of art-pencils or anything, but somewhere along the way I developed a pencil-box. For a long time it was a long white cardboard gift box, the kind meant for a watch or a bracelet. It was held together with a black hair scrunchie and lasted about four years. Eleven years ago I found an awesome wood box with a latch that has been with me since. It’s gone on every major trip I’ve ever taken, and has traveled with me more than my husband has.
The smell is intoxicating. It contains the anxiety of failed art, the challenge of a new idea, the awe of a completed piece that has turned out far better than I thought I could produce. It is warm and familiar and exciting. It is the smell of amazement and possibility….. after all, these pencils are filled with future artwork. If they could bottle this smell for a man, it would be my personal love potion!