Sunday, May 09, 2010
About one thousand years ago I studied fine art at TAFE before I went to unamaversity to study the inverted pyramid and global imperialism. I thought this would be a good idea as it would allow me to smoke weed and get paint on my shoes/get famous.
It was a bad idea. My cohort consisted of long term dole recipients, ex-teachers, old men that wanted to paint sailing ships, and a guy called Greg. He was probably the worst. He had this absolutely shit CD of classical musicians playing Tool songs. He would insist on putting it on and then try and explain to the old guy that wanted to paint sailing ships how amazing and powerful Tool were. Then he would walk past some girls, close his eyes, and sing the lyrics in some sort of soprano pitch with epileptic head wobbles. His face looked like his balls were pressing up against his stomach and he was reaching some sort of painful climax. I'm pretty sure this is a good way to get girls. That or neck massages with hands you've warmed up in your pants.
For his final piece he painted an eye on an old television. I couldn't believe how bold a statement he was making. Like we watch TV, but what if, like TV, was like fucking watching us man? Like what if it was a way to keep us consuming? Like the government and the corporations are like controlling society through mainstream media. He brought the fucking truth. I learnt a lot from him - Dudes that wear loose weave beanies wank to Tool with their eyes closed and that John Howard was the boss of television and fast food.
I had a painting class at night with a bunch of old mature age students. We had a few life drawing sessions with a red-head nude model. I think some of the old crusts were eternally stoked. They were a little bit too keen and it kind of freaked me out. When it was time to go around the class and look at everyone's work a plumber said to me "You did a real good job on the titties. They're hard to get right". He'd positioned himself to get a good view of the butt and was very proud of his rump rendering. Another old guy brought a camera and asked the model if he could take a photo of her face so he could 'finish it off at home'. I'm guessing he was probably going to finish it off in the coffee break out in the carpark inside his '85 laser. The lecturer jumped in and said there would be no photos. Dude was bummed.
I dropped out before the second semester started and got a job at an avocado farm with a homophobic moustache man.