It’s My Party, and I’ll Craft if I Want To

On a warm September night, I sat at a crowded Greenpoint, Brooklyn spot and browsed the menu. It was a similar scene to many nights I’d had before, but this menu was different. Instead of a martini or a burger, there was a “collage buffet” and air-dry clay. At a simple wooden table across from a friend I hadn’t seen in nearly a year, I ordered a set of watercolors from a waiter. They were presented to me like a plated assortment of dips, with pigments ready to be wetted on a large dish and various-sized brushes wrapped in a napkin like clean utensils. As I began painting, my friend picked up a piece of the charcoal she ordered and began to sketch. “Did you know I almost went to art school?” She asked. I didn’t. We went on from there, sketching and painting for the next two hours as we caug