L’Artiste

by Lisa

       Boy, I hope I got that title grammatically correct en francais (and I think ‘francais’ needs that little curly tail underneath the ‘c’ here, but my computer is an ugly American one), for I am now taking a french class because I enjoy torturing myself. Life would be just plain boring if I did not try to make myself feel stupid on a regular basis. Keeping up with these kids straight out of high school is great sport. I especially enjoy springing into action when we all hit the computers to do some pop quizzes. The teacher keeps up with THEIR pace–not mine. I have become the class clown since I invariably can’t even log on to whatever it is we are doing. “Madame Lisa did you put the password in BEFORE your student number like I told you?” “No, it’s not your social security  number, remember?”. “I’ll give it to you again, but this time write it down.” “You have no pen?” Kinda goes like that. That’s okay. I’m a world class counter in french, and I’m all the way up to 39 with an accent that would make Gerard Depardieu bend me over backwards and kiss my neck.

       So here I am more in my element and doing what I am at least better at doing. This is the large drawing I have been bitching and moaning about that I finally commenced the other day. Never in my life have I done a more physically demanding piece of artwork. As you know the preparation for this thing was grueling, and now the drawing process is wreaking havoc on my right arm and upper back since it requires force to scrub the charcoal onto the rough surface. I actually went to the doctor the other day because my back hurt so bad. I was hoping he would give me vicodin, but all I got was some lousy celebrex. Actually I admit it works great. If only I can take it every day for the next few weeks until I finish this sucker without getting heart complications, blindness, impotence, hives, troubles sleeping, a desire to strangle ones spouse, headaches, unusual cravings for steak au poivre, or tremors. And when I am done, I am going to show a close-up before and after picture of my right bicep. Actually, I had to make a maulstick for this , and in fact, I even resort to using my left hand when my right arm gives out.

       I love to torture myself. Au revoir.

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This entry was posted in Drawing, Humor, On Suffering. Bookmark the permalink.

11 Responses to L’Artiste

  1. Melinda says:

    That is one impressive piece of paper! Switching hands is a great idea. Then you can be equally exhausted on both sides.
    I’m looking forward to the finished work, or any of the process you’d like to share.
    Try to remember:
    N’importe quel jour en travaillant dans l’art est une bonne journée
    Or,
    Allir dagur gerð list er góð kaup dagur.

  2. Wow, Lisa…. you are a brave soul. I’m suitably impressed that you are taking French. Spoken language is certainly not my gift, esp. a foreign one.

    Because I’m a visual learner, French seems especially tortuous to me (except for my ballet vocabulary, learned before my brain starting seizing up so much). If I could stick to such terms as “pas de deux”, “pas de poisson”, pas de chat”, “pas de cheval”, etc. in conversation with French people, I’d be okay. Unfortunately I need to also learn grammar and the gender of a thousand nouns.

    I think Italian might be easier… at least I could talk with my hands if I couldn’t remember the words.

  3. grfxho says:

    Amazing undertaking, Lisa. Will you keep posting pictures of your progress on the piece? I’d love to see it (and your bicep, of course) as it develops.

  4. You are ambitious! French and a large painting! At least the chair looks comfortable to sit in.

    I’d love to see the work in progress too!

    PS: Can’t Bill get a hold of some Vicodin for you? He seems to be quite resourceful! :D

  5. ivdanu says:

    The bloody French invented almost everything, Lisa. Be careful what you declare; le Marquis de Sade would LOVE to meet you…

  6. lbtowers says:

    What would we do without you guys to entertain us?

  7. Nava says:

    Wow – that piece of paper is gloriously stretched. C’est merveilleux et magnifique!!

    You could just frame it and have the crowds admire it at some modern art museum.

    I am utterly curious to see how this drawing develops! Keep counting (after 39 comes quarante, I believe), take care of that right hand, and have mercy on your spouse.

  8. I don’t believe the warning label says anything about spouses does it??? Did you throw that one in so you can use it as a disclaimer later??

    WHY (in bold and bigger than the rest of the text around it) did you decide to do this? Is it a commission… do you have a special space in your house, did your agent or gallery decide this would be something great to sell or are you just trying to stretch your skills?
    I am really looking forward to seeing this when it’s complete. (.. but enjoying seeing the stages, too.) If it’s like the rest of your work, I’m sure it will be beautiful.

  9. lbtowers says:

    Marian, I will answer the looming WHY question in an upcoming post.

  10. Funny!
    Good luck with the gigantic canvas.
    I’ll come back to check it out.

  11. Pingback: Because It’s My Party… « On Painting

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