I did my second art lesson yestrerday. Still no naked people to draw, just another day spent drawing a bin and a stool.
As I walked into the college there was a woman with a clipboard and a roll of stickers. She asked me if I was a student. I said no, full of that mock Paul Calf anger, “I’m not a fucking student”, then I remembered, I’m there to do my art class, that makes me a student.
I backtracked a little and she told me the teachers were on strike over something or other and would I like a sticker. I said yes, took the sticker, but didn’t really stick it anywhere noteworthy.
Now I was worried, would my teacher, the other terry, be on strike? I needed to draw something. I couldn’t just go into an empty classroom and draw, there’d be no feelings of inadequacy and failure then.
But Terry and the ladies were there, I called him a scab under my breath and he made me draw a stool, again.
Next week is charcoal… I hope I get to draw a stool