Tuesday, October 09, 2007

Where I don't belong...

There’s something about the smell of an art room that makes me wish I could fold myself into forever, where my hands are always ink-stained, where the ground is scarred by chairs dragged to the furthest wall to touch the imprint of someone else’s masterpiece.

Maybe because it feels ageless, timeless, as our best instructors have been dead long before we were born and wanted to feel clouds of sepia chalk in our nostrils. The quiet, the weird, they all have their places on the top here, their talent trumps their mastery of the language and we feel each other’s weight on the page. We make up what we can’t see until we can.

I have not completed any of my homework and I will be back in that room tonight, averting my eyes from someone’s bare body until I can see his shadows. I’m finding the exercise due incredibly daunting and so I’m looking into my keyboard, trying to pull out words from numbers, hoping to draw a blank in my mind and a little inspiration. In my office it does not smell like paper and pencils and acrylic, instead it smells of someone's re-heated Lean Cuisine which has carried down the hallway from the shared kitchen, and at this moment, I am very sorry for that.


Ha Ha Sound said...

Always a shame to waste time in an office when one would rather be doing art, isn't it?

Anonymous said...

post the new drawings!!!