Art Paradise

My Painting Class

My paiting class - or learning to pain like Paul Horton - something like that. My mum enrolled me in the summer program at our local art museum and what I remember most about this was drawing the cactus that my mum had. It was a bromeliade, I think that’s what they are called, it has a huge pink prickly flower in the middle. It was very nouveau at the time and me mum thought she was chic.

I had an after school job at a florist, and the teacher told us that we should look closely at what we saw and work from that. We needed to learn to really look. This is what I think about years later. The need to really look.

The city I live in rewards you for looking up. It has the most amazing array of Victorian architecture. The trouble is that all of the store fronts are modern. If you look down trying to keep the rain out of your eyes, or even at street level, the entire city looks bleak. By looking up,however, you receive the ultimate prize. You are transported to a movie set of a bygone era. You day dream of Eva Peron and Chariots of Fire.

My next painting class, I needed to beg to get on to. I was in University and I did not have the drawing class that I should have taken. My pleading worked, and I remember spending three months late at night in the studio in the art building. I took apart an alarm clock and drew all of the pieces. I did monochrome self portraits of my ears.

All I have now is a longing.

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