When I was in the 5th grade, the art teacher Miss Gerkin (I don't remember her name, but this will suffice. All I remember clearly is that she was young, not pretty with strange moles on her face, and could easily pass for the Wicked Witch of the West -- any other individual that went to Philip Murray Elementary School with me will agree. Plus, I like gerkins and they have weird bumps on them, too) asked me if I wanted to join up with weekend classes at the Carnegie Museum. The classes were limited to a few hand-selected kids that excelled in art and would be free to those that were chosen from submitted works. Miss Gerkin sent in some of my stuff, of which I do not remember/know, and I got a letter of acceptance. I was the only kid from my school that was welcome to attend. And so began my "formal" training.
Feeling out of sorts, I would sit on the cold marble floors of the Carnegie with 20odd other children and let my mind emerge onto paper or whichever medium we would explore for the week. We made pottery, drew with pencil, painted on easels, sketched with conti-crayons. All these things were far beyond anything we were doing back at Philip Murray, and though I didn't feel quite as confident about my work as some of the other kids seemed to be - I was exposed to things with which I may not have otherwise been.
When it came time to decide where I would go to middle school, it seemed that I had only one option which was to follow the direct path to Knoxville Middle School with the rest of the degenerates from not only my school, but two other elementary buildings. That is, until a neighbor mentioned that her grandchild went to a special school because he could sing. Then it came to be that his twin brother+sister would be attending the same school for their talents (singing/music). With PJ (the older sibling) as a reference, and a good one at that, I opted to sign-up for Rogers CAPA (Creating and Performing Arts) Middle School, then located in the not-so-safe neighborhood of Homewood. To "try out," I had to draw a list of things and integrate them into one picture. I remember using pencil on an 8.5x11 and the list included a building and a helicopter. I thought it was weird, I thought it wasn't very good, but lo and behold I was accepted.
Again, I was the only kid from my elementary school to go to this new place. And feeling out of sorts, I would get on the bus with other 6th, 7th, and 8th graders from the South Hills and travel to the ghetto for school. The Visual Arts class for 6th graders was less than 20. We had 8 girls in our class (I can still remember their names: Me, Nikki, Nicole, Jessica, Megan, Adrienne, Molly, and Caroline). We were all from different backgrounds and all had different technique to our talent. Our general education wasn't very strong, but the visual arts classes were focused on very much. Where gen ed classes took up the majority of the day, each art class took up half the day and we had art class three days a week. They then split up the art classes into three sections (while the rest of the classes were divided into the regular 4 semesters): computer graphics, figure drawing, and ceramics. Mouse Paint, 8headed people (the distance from top of your head to your waist is four heads, the distance from your knee to the ground is four heads, etc), and pottery. Again, I didn't feel quite as confident about my work as some of the other kids seemed to be - I was exposed to things with which I may not have otherwise been. We painted the window blinds for the main art "homeroom" with various mythological creatures, and I remember painting Medusa's skin purple (not my idea).
The school year ended and I left Rogers. I didn't get along with the other children and didn't want to get beat up every day - which was beginning to happen after being shoved into a locker and getting a titty-twister. But I did keep up with my Saturday morning classes at the Carnegie all the while (turned out, if I stayed, then tuition was free as long as I went to a Pittsburgh Public School).
For 7th grade, I transferred to a catholic school that was 3 doors away from my house. My parents paid for the classes at the Carnegie. Here and there, I would still draw, but it wasn't until I got into 8th grade, switched to the afternoon classes at the Carnegie, then in 9th grade took Visual Arts 2 (skipping the beginners section). A girl named Lori was in the same class and was also taking the classes at the Carnegie, so we were like partners. It was good to have a friend to share the creations with.
At Carrick High, we sketched figure drawings, did scratch art, painted, and made those boxes where you do all kinds of weird stuff to the inside and cover the box, then look through a hole in the side (I forget what they are called at the moment). At home at night, I would put on my walkman CD player and listen to Marilyn Manson while sketching pictures of him and the band, drew cartoons of them. I was also a fan of Brad Pitt at the time, so I drew pictures of him and made his abs 10x better than they were on the cover of Rolling Stone.
In 10th grade, I took Art 3. I don't remember much. It was the last of the classes that I took. Over the years, I would draw here and there (mostly figure drawings and portraits), but art seemed to lack in luster and my tools disappeared along with my mind.
Beginning with the sketches that I penciled for John back in Feb/March, it became clear to me that once I got going the old right-brain skills that I once exercised quite frequently would gather up and become visible. People would often tell me "Why don't you draw?" but something held me back. The sketches for John were just for fun, I would tell myself, that I didn't want to have to sit there and draw all the time just because someone told me to, or thought I was good.
One day I got an idea that the Tiki Guys that I drew for Anthony, John's brother, should become a painting. I set a goal that I wanted to paint them on canvas with acrylic (a medium that I never used before) and went to the craft store. There was a never-ending 40% off sale on the canvas with which I took full advantage and "stocked up" on 5 pre-stretched boards. I bought beginner paints and brushes, frightened that I would end up letting them go to waste should I invest in better quality. It would have to do.
The first day, I drew a basic placement of the dudes and began working on the "mean one" that evening. I had the base down and got comfortable with the brush in my hand and working the paint. For the next few weeks, I would sit for a little and bit by bit, the painting came to life (with my iPod on, mostly the same song by The Prodigy called Warrior's Dance. This was also one of the songs that I would put on repeat while I ran from the apartment to the fountain halfway to Diamond Head at the end of Kapiolani Park).
The guys each have different things that I thought would personalize their features. The Haole Huntah (green) is angry and is carrying both a torch and a spear-like weapon that is covered in teeth. The grass skirt pulled him together, I used a character on a Disney Nintendo game, Magical Quest for reference from memory. Da Kine Bruddah is smoking a doob with the state fish jumping around his inner tube.
With canvas on stock, I painted a few gradient backgrounds and began to slap things on them. All three paintings traveled with me from Hawaii. A jellyfish is still in the works, along with a bunch of sloppy metallic painted herring that will probably be seconds away from consumption by a whale (both currently sitting at John's mom's house). The last two didn't feel right for me, they just "didn't do it." I needed more and I needed a reason to paint again.
So being that we crashed at Virg's house (John's gram) and she made us coffee every morning, set up a little apartment for us, and made us feel right at home I naturally wanted to make something for her. Since she's a grandma and all grandma's collect things, I started paying attention to the little things that she decorated the house with. One thing that was a common theme: hummingbirds. BINGBINGBING!
Day One, I penciled the basic placement of the bird and paired it with another, albeit a flower (bird of paradise). Dissatisfied, I re-drew the things and made them bigger to create less background/negative space. Dilligently, while listening to the As I Lay Dying discography (with this song and this song on repeat a few times), I painted the flower first making as smooth a texture as I could. Last night, the bird came to be with surprising ease. I'm not sure if I simply have an affinity to feathers (being that I have more than I can count tattooed on me) but the bird emerged onto the canvas with little effort. Confident, pleased, I created a center burst of light and faded it outward to yellows and oranges to create a sun-lighting effect and slapped on my insignia for the final touch.
FINAL:
I know Virg will love it.
With these, I'm not sure where I'm going or what I'm doing. Initially, my burst of motivation came from the fact that I was bored and I figured that if I was going to sit on my ass I should get off the computer and do something with my hands that would be more satisfying than online "Bundy shopping" (look at everything, try it on, touch it - but don't buy it!). Fact is, I AM satisfied with having sat on my ass and to have created this thing. This STUFF.
