And the last day of the semester has come (including Painting).
I have somehow gotten oil paint on every single piece of Non-Painting outerwear that I own, including my former blindingly white winter jacket (by blinding, I mean that when I walk in the sun, it hurts my own eyes to look down, so I can’t imagine what it’s like for other people), my only hoodie that I actually like (the other one is > 5 years old), and my backpack (!!). (How does this happen??) Whenever I wear my Designated Paint Gear, i.e., the jeans that are 2 sizes too big, those clothes miraculously evade all splatters, but as soon as I bust out my actual clothes, I see paint. Everywhere. And it’s bright red paint this time. Spotted right down the front so it seemed that I had a nosebleed that refused to stop.
As people who have painted with oil know, oil paint doesn’t come off, unless you scrub with whatever solvent you used. So until it evaporates, everything smells very strongly of turpenoid, and there is so much paint on the sleeves of my jacket that I’ve just given up.
At least it’s not turpentine. Then I’d be sustaining some serious brain damage from those fumes.
My final project:
The picture is slightly dark, but a better one will be uploaded later. When everything is dry. The painting is – surprise! – another Sargent master copy. Coincidence.
This was where it was the day night before it was due. The two girls were two blobs (the finished painting has been called “hey-this-is-post-lump” and “whoa-I-didn’t-realize-those-were-people-until-you-finished-it) — and by blobs, I mean that the two girls in the painting were actually two blobs of colour (as seen by the right below).
Sometimes, the building doesn’t have heat at night, so I’m incredibly hesitant to go to the painting studio because I turn into the human icicle within ten minutes. But since this painting was not “Sargent But In An Abstract Style,” I bundled up, arrived at the studio… and the janitors apparently knew that all the art students would come in, because the heat was on. There also appeared several other art students from the wild, most of whom were worse for wear. I think they left in the dark hours of the morning.
The thing is, you really can’t fudge art. Just like in music, people know if the work you did was rushed. Harried brush strokes look like harried brush strokes. Colours look dirty. (Usually, this revelation is accompanied by heavy sighing or cries of “Why did I leave this the last minute???” echoing from the studio. In that case, just give the poor student a bunch of tissues and awkwardly leave them alone.)
This was the most enjoyable painting I’ve done this semester. I loved it. Most of the time, I feel like I’m cheating when I take an art class, because it doesn’t feel like work (except the times when I have three exams in a week AND two major paintings – then I’m a grump). A quarter of the painting can take hours (again, see above), but suddenly – bam! Shapes! A head! Lanterns! – form. Although, I could spend easily ten more hours and it would still be unfinished. But that’s for later. I need to finish baking these cookies first…
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