I broke the little spoon I use to dip water to make ink. I didn’t think about the thing until I broke it. I can’t remember where I bought it or when. It was from one of the specialty shops serving the sumi ink using community in Ueno.
Like the spoon, I didn’t think about those shops until they were gone. They died quietly. No horns, bells or whistles like a pachinko. One by one they folded.
I had no spoon, and no place to buy a new one.
There are lots of ways to move water, but I was used to my little cup, and my dipping spoon. It didn’t matter that it looked like a swans head. It was tool I had used enough to forget it was there. I didn’t have to think when I used it.
I missed my spoon.
I missed the shop that sold it.
I went over to Jimbocho. Both their painting shops were gone as well. There just aren’t enough of us to keep them alive. Ouch. I just had a birthday, and was feeling older by the second.
Dinosaur Jim.
The good news is that I fixed the spoon with some epoxy and a thin steel nail.
The bad news is that my favorite kind of painting, while not mainstream for 150 years, seems to be about to dry up and blow away.
