Art and the Rabtti

In an effort to consolidate the boxes in our garage (with the hope that someday it would house an actual car instead of acting as a glorified storage unit) I dug into a couple boxes that had school work that my mom had saved from grade school.  It was an eye opening experience that I just have to share... lucky YOU!

Among all the papers were old report cards which reminded me of how average a student I was; and how much I appreciate Spell Check because, apparently, I was hooked on Foniks! I noticed a disturbing trend in the report cards when it came to ART class and I thought it was a little unfair for the teachers to judge so harshly... i mean I was a kid, how bad could my art be to be graded in the low C or high D category?  Year after year I improved on most of my classes but not ART; what the hell? 

Digging through more school stuff I found some clues that would bring to light this hater-like attitude to my, uh, 'Art'?  

Now in my defense I was young when I did this, er, Abstract piece. Yes, Abstract... I mean look at the use of color and what can only be intentional-dripping to personify the effect of, ummm, gravity's pull on the blueness of the soul. In fact it exudes so much Abstract Expressionism it would make Jack Pollock, (aka; Jack the Dripper), cry with envy! This is totally B+ grading right here, by golly.

This next piece was obviously from my self-impressionism stage of life... I think. 
The cut out job was pretty good but I only did half my eye makeup, the socks SO don't go with that lovely frock, those pointy-toe shoes are way too wedgie; and where the fuck are my fingers?! 


Yep, starting to see where my art skills may have been questioned, but hey, don't mess with my cut out... she looks like she could kick your ass or at least wedge her shoe up there!






And then I found this.  It was for 
Easter; an Easter Rabtti.  


My Easter Rabtti is, ahhhh, colorful and 
looks to be happy, I guess?  I think that cheerful orange face is trying to hide the fact that
there appears to be some malformation in the arm and leg proportions and, Holy Yuck, is that stomach protrusion some kind of intestinal disorder? Naw, probably just ate too many of those freakishly red eggs ... the ones in that basket, you know, next to the 'goldden' egg which is, Sigh, Grey.

There really is no 'Ism' that could describe this... whatever this is.  

Yeah, I get it now. What those teachers must have thought when looking at my 'art', those poor bastards.




So, I think I finally figured out that my talent didn't express itself so much in Art but more in developing a wicked, and eventually snotty, snarky vocabulary! It can be seen here in this little rhyme which, while not exactly correct, pretty much sums up the sentiment my exploration of Art:


"One, Two: buckel my shoe.
Three, Fore: Don't open the door.
Five, Six: Pick up Stickes
Seven, Eight: Open the gate
Nice, Ten: PISS on the ham"

(and by ham, I'm positive I meant ART)





Over the years you may think that someone so obviously handicapped in the Art department would stay away from things they cannot control... but there are times when the crayons are just sitting there, waiting for true inspiration to explode on the white canvas, (this one created in 2009).  Maybe, just maybe this time it will happen, I'll draw something so profoundly beautiful that I will have my redemption, my A+ ... or not.

Hey, it was worth a try... and that blue thing is a duck; a close relation to the Easter Rabtti.