Painting 'Rosy'

(There was a news item this morning about how the Italians have spent some 25 million pounds to make the world's best known bell tower (The Leaning Tower of Pisa) not quite as musically inclined as it used to be.)

Painting 'Rosy' is a never ending job, as there is always something that needs doing.  I'm currently doing the several hatch covers.  These are basically white, with a black scalloped edge, and a central red design - one has a circle, one an oval and one a heart.  This means painting up to a sharp line, and the lines are too curvy to use masking tape.  At 'Homebase' or some such DIY store, I bought some 'flitches' - flat paint brushes with the bristles trimmed to 45 degrees.  Quite cheap and totally useless.  Then in an art shop I got a half inch 'angle shader'.  I'm convinced that in the hands of a whizz it would do a superb job, for me it's OK!! 

Painting outdoors has its hazards.  One needs a rainless day.  If the sun is too hot then the paint dries too quickly, and it's difficult to lay it off.  And there are the insects.  As soon as the paint is on, the insects come to inspect it, and land on it, and get stuck.  This usually only happens on sunny days, flying insects being, in the main, fair weather friends.  Those insects that get stuck, and stoically accept their fate, and stay still until they die, are not a problem.  A few days' sun dries them off nicely, and they can then be swept away with a brush, leaving scarcely a trace behind.  It's those insects that won't lay down and die, but struggle around and believe in a future that are the problem, as they stir up the drying paint surface and leave a wobble in the surface.

The fact is that painting and I don't get along too well.  A large part of my youth was spent perched on top of a ladder rubbing down, sanding and painting the window frames of our house.  As the paint was usually green, I've had an aversion to green paint ever since.  I got no encouragement from my parents who merely whinged that I wasn't doing it very well.  Sadly, that was before the days when one could say (as a child) 'Well, do it yourselves then!!'

There was also an uncle who was supposed to be a bit of a card.  He was due to visit.  The first I knew of his arrival was when he crept up to the bottom of the ladder, gave it a shake, and shouted a cheery greeting.  I've had an automatic and deep distrust of grown-ups and authority figures ever since - until they've proved their worth.

Shortly after this, there was an art exam at school.  It was the only time I have ever scored zero in an exam.  One of the possible topics to paint was 'A Green House'.  So I painted MY house - which, after all, I knew very well, as I'd just painted it green.

At start of the next art lesson, I was called to the front for a chat with the art master.  Sniggers all round, as I was the only boy in the class still to be wearing short trousers, and our art master was a bit ....  odd.  He liked stroking boys' knees.  So there he was, stroking my knee, with the rest of the class sniggering, and him asking awkward questions.

As an aside, I've often wondered what my parents (who were good Methodists and saw sex, and everything to do with it, as exceedingly sinful, and in no way to be talked about) would have said if I'd mentioned that I wanted to move up to long trousers because I was fed up with the art master stroking my knee .....

Anyway, back to school ...

He (The Art Master - waving my picture around):  What is this? 

Me:  It is my painting sir, of a green house.  Look.  It says so at the bottom.

He:  Are you trying to be funny?

Me:  Oh!  No sir.  I find it comes quite naturally.

(A pause.  Some heavy breathing and some extended (time-wise) stroking)

He:  You will observe that the other possible subjects were 'Still life with Flowers', 'The Flower Garden' and 'The Flowers of the Field'.

Me:  Yes.  I'm not very good at flowers.  That's why I chose the green house.

Well!  You can guess the rest.  I suggested that he should have called the option a 'glass house' if that's what he meant.

He gave me zero.  I moved into long trousers, gave up art, and turned to pottery (run by Peter Pepper Potter) and have been a happy potter (on and off) ever since.

Actually, I once won an art prize at school.  Or, more truthfully, I once won a prize at school, it was an art prize.

I went to a boarding 6th Form college, and had to join 3 clubs.  Most of the other boy were chosing between boxing and tennis.  I joined the Printing Club, the non-Conformist Christian Club and the Art Club.  I was the only junior in the art club, the other 3 members were seniors.  When they left the School, I was the only member until a junior (M.T King - we called him Empty - geddit M.T.  - Empty?) insisted on joining.  Empty was one of those annoying people who are good at everything.  Anyway, I saw my way through to getting a school prize, something that I'd never achieved, and much wanted to.  I went to see the master who supervised the Art Club (he was quite surprised to learn that he WAS the supervising master!) and suggested that there ought to be an Art Prize.  He agreed.  Paintings to be submitted to me (the Club President) and forwarded to him, him not to know who the painters were (to help prevent bribery and corruption) him to be the judge.

I dashed off 6 paintings and submitted them to the master.  He chose a winner, and I said 'Oh!  Crickey!  That's embarrasing!  It's mine!!'

Empty complained to me that he didn't even know that there was an art competition with prizes.  I told him he must have missed the notice that I'd pinned to the Art Notice board (it was there for at least ten minutes), and that he really ought to attend to these details!!  Anyway, he won dozens of other prizes, so I'm still not embarrassed by my cheating.

Er ......

That's it.

Toodle pip!!

Bill