I have not painted in two weeks. I’ve had lots of company in town, and I have made some amazing dinners, and shopped really really good, and can clean a kitchen full of dirty dishes with breakneck speed, but no painting. I will say I have dreamed about painting. Or dreamed about talking about painting. Someone else’s painting–not even mine.
I will admit, however, that I indulgently spend my entire Fridays now at Moorpark College taking a ceramics class. Before you think I am some BS artist posing as a painter, I’ll have you know, that my intentions are related to painting. I am planning on making pots that will go into still lifes. I am sick and tired of looking for the right pots, and decided to take the plunge and make the damn things myself. As it turns out, I really love my ceramics class. The teacher had us doing some pinch pots first (BOR-RING), and then we had to create a “self portrait” (incorporating something about ourselves into a pot form) with a coil pot technique. At first I thought BOR-RING again (mind you, I want to get on the potters wheel and sling some clay about), and then I began to get into it. I would and I could make my coil pot bigger and taller than anyone else’s, and I would create it faster so I could move on to the wheel. Turns out a 14″ coil pot is not for sissies. I decided that because I am painter, my pot should relate to what I paint. Since I paint nudes, I would do a nude torso that doubles as a pot/planter. I would do it from the bottom of the butt to the top of the breasts. As soon as I got the rear end built, the thought dawned on me that it kind of looked like my own, which was when it dawned on me everyone probably thought I was sculpting my own body, which was when I began blushing. That was remedied as time went on because the higher my macho pot got, the more the base began to sink making my booty look more like Queen Latifa’s booty. I was really relieved but I was learning an important lesson about building coil pots, and Mr. Gravity. As my piece began to weaken and the butt began to spread, it also began to crack apart at, you guessed it, the crack. There I was digging and digging in the crack to try to fix it, and wondering what the others were thinking, for, don’t forget, as a hot dog, I was ahead of most students in the class and was drawing a bit of attention. I know I would have been amused. I thought about how funny it would be if I had left the hole in the crack, and gone ahead and planted some dainty flower in it and then watered it thoroughly. I’ll leave the rest of the visual up to you.
Anyway, I wish I had a picture of my finished nude pot to publish here, but I don’t. Maybe I’ll take a picture of it next week. If not, I’ll run a picture of Queen Latifa’s booty.