illustrations
For some reason I decided to give up my work-free Fridays in exchange for an art class at PCC. A six hour drawing class, actually. Five of the six hours are spent standing in front of an easel, arm extended (I don't dare rest my wrist), drawing the same things again and again on 18x24 paper. Last class session a girl played her CD on the community boom box, a horrifying mix of Top 40 alternative rock hits from circa 2001. God have mercy on my soul.
The whole experience is exhausting. After the lunch break I hate the objects for being elusive in their dimensions and proportions. I hate the concrete floor for being so unyielding. I hate the charcoal and graphite for being so quick to shatter. From noon to three PM I am a mess - eyebrows shoved together in almost psychotic concentration, a slew of profanities uttered not quite under my breath.
It wouldn't surprise me to learn that my classmates call me Turrets Girl when I'm not around.
[In other news, Anne Lamott is speaking for free downtown next week. Anyone want to go?]
The whole experience is exhausting. After the lunch break I hate the objects for being elusive in their dimensions and proportions. I hate the concrete floor for being so unyielding. I hate the charcoal and graphite for being so quick to shatter. From noon to three PM I am a mess - eyebrows shoved together in almost psychotic concentration, a slew of profanities uttered not quite under my breath.
It wouldn't surprise me to learn that my classmates call me Turrets Girl when I'm not around.
[In other news, Anne Lamott is speaking for free downtown next week. Anyone want to go?]
posted by Missi at 4:58 PM
2 Comments:
Anne Lamott? Hell YES. I will be there with you, just let me know when!
I'm sorry we didn't come say hi! The times I've tried, people are usually not home. But... we love you! Come dance with us for Bob's birthday!
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