I signed up for a figure drawing class, which begins this weekend. I like drawing the peoples but sometimes I put together their parts wrongish and render 'em all weird. And so: learning.
In taking this class I hope to overcome the trauma of my first and only other figure drawing class, which I took in seventh grade. I won an art prize, and the award was an afternoon workshop at the local college. They didn't call it "figure drawing," they called it "life drawing," so I, a twelve-year-old, naturally assumed they were going to put out a vase of lilies or a plate of fruit. Fruit! Flowers! Life!
There were no flowers, but they put out a fruit plate, all right. Fruit basket? What's the euphemism for man parts? Anyway. Twelve-year-old me walked into a class filled with sophisticated college kids and was confronted with her first naked guy. It was not how she dreamed it would happen, if ever she dreamed such things.
I soldiered through the class, but I don't remember a second of it. I only know I stayed because I would have been too scared to leave, knocking over my easel in the process, somehow colliding with the model in front of everyone, etc. I'm sure I behaved in a polite and professional and terrified manner as I tried to make sense of the shadows and contours I was recreating on my newsprint pad.
Fortunately I am now fully grown, and willing to draw any and all private parts that might be on display, as far as a class setting is concerned. (The teacher will no doubt wonder why I disregarded the rest of the body, but never mind.) As naked people fail to worry me, I've been preoccupied with how I was going to tote the materials required for the class-- materials that include include the largest sketch pad ever in the universe. The class is an hour commute and a couple of subway lines from my home. A plastic bag wouldn't cut it for this monster. I like to worry about things, apparently. But it turns out that of course there are tote bags you can buy for even the largest of sketch pads. At any price point. Of course.
I ordered the low-to-mid-range one, and this is the box it came in today. I got worried again.
Henry asked, "What's in that?" and I said, "My new purse!" He didn't seem surprised.
Compared to the giant box, however, the bag is not horrifyingly large. Above the bag sits my annoyed cat. Whenever a box arrives, she expects to sit in it. Why can't she SIT IN THIS GODDAMN THING.
(As you can see, her diet is going well, coughcough throatclearing.)
More soon, possibly with artistic nudes, but I can't promise they'll be tasteful.