A Box of Paints

I never got into fine arts, which was something I really wanted to do. Apparently my art is not good enough to qualify for fine arts. I wont say that I am the best artist around. On the contrary, I describe my work as childish doodles. I work only in pencil and ink. I went for a job interview once that needed me to draw cartoon characters; they told me my work is too realistic. Funny, art school told me it’s too cartoon like.

I remember in Grade 7 we had to do a piece of art for some or other eisteddfod or some or other competition. I can’t remember exactly what it was for. We had to work with chalk and only three colours. I chose sand colours. Variations of brown. To this day I love brown. It’s such a rich colour with so many meanings and with so much depth. This piece of art was an A4 size and it had to be all natural things that kind of fitted into each other. The trick was, the teacher gave us the items and we had to basically make it fit like a puzzle, by re-drawing the individual pieces, as they slide into each other, not leaving any of the background open.  I hated it and thought it was really stupid. I thought mine was a piece of shit and that the sooner this crap was over the better………. I got second place. I still have the certificate somewhere.

I am not good at working with colour. In my opinion, I just fuck it up when I add colour. So I do my sketches, but every now and again I get the stupid idea to try and add colour to my work. It seems like a good idea at first and then it all fucks out when I start doing it.  Inevitably the piece lands up in the bin. So a couple of years ago, one of my students, Gigi, was doing a painting and she asked me to paint with her. Now this girl can paint. Me, well my paintings look like 6year old finger paintings from the Avril Elizabeth Home. I told her that I cannot paint and that I have no idea what to paint. She handed me a board and a brush and she said “Just Paint. Don’t think about it” So I attempted once again to paint.

My Painting.

When it comes to painting statues, not to blow my own horn (wish I could), I am pretty good. But I cannot paint on canvas or wall or anything that is not a 3-d statue. However here I was, paint brush in hand, canvas in front of me and a need to connect with this student. So what do you do? You fucking paint, that’s what.

I painted the biggest load of kak. She thought it was wonderful. To this day I don’t know what the fuck it is but Paul won’t let me throw it away and believe me when I say that he checks up on it. I don’t know what it is, I don’t know what it is not, I don’t have some symbolic explanation for it. I can probably think one up though. Nothing went through my mind while painting it other than our conversation as I was getting to know her better. Maybe one day when I am very old or buried, it will be worth a lot of money, kind of like John Lennon’s ugly sketches.  Who knows.

Then this year started. For some bizarre reason I now have it in my head again to try and paint. I know it’s gonna be a fuck up of note. But I now agreed to paint a Kali for the director of the Tradition. Why? Cuz I am a fucking idiot, that’s why. But even though my name is not Gerda Louw and I cannot paint to save my fucking life, I am going to try it. But it doesn’t stop there. In my confidence about this being a painting year, I have also agreed to do a Baphomet for a friend of mine. Can we say “Stupid”? And you know, I don’t know how I get talked into this. No actually I do it all by myself, and the worst part is, I do it when I am dead sober. If I had a bottle or three of some dry red, I would never agree to doing this kinda shit, that I know for a fact I cant fucking do. But I agreed and I don’t break agreements. So when I am done with these pieces of ‘art’ I will be sure to show you all. Until such time, don’t take me seriously when I tell you I will paint you something.

Mwah