RY AND THIRSTY, a paintbrush pokes its nose into water, then ground inkstone, and swells with the abundance of expressive potential. It hesitates above the eager surface of the blank (even thirstier) page until the sooty liquid suffuses the fibers, spreading wantonly. Neither paper nor brush, let alone the human hands that hold them, can halt the advance once it has begun, for the boundaries of the flood tide are
