Somehow I’ve found myself driving through many small towns looking for anything that will make me an artist. Somehow, I drive pass the barren forgotten cemeteries in Epsom. I glance at the farms from centuries ago still thriving on dairy, manure and maple syrup. Yet, I am the epitome of uninspired!
In actuality I’m making my way to Wakefield, NH. To a good buzz, a quick high and Bianca’s bad attempts at art all taken in large doses, of course. I never really had the courage to tell her that the bizarreness of the lines, the oddities in her subject matter make for bad thoughts and slow carnage of what is wrong with art in the painted form.
Heading out of Epsom I’m reminded of my mentor, Scott. Scott was and is an educator to glorified high school students down at Concord’s Community College.
Quietly I chuckle at the quick get togethers we would have at the Park-N-Ride. His promise of more nude modeling gigs if only I would assist him…with small children. Small children and their portraits set off in an abandoned studio, Northfield NH. Kids in the hands of Ambien on Grace and Scott on Ego; carrying cameras and candy, both eager to assist when tears were shed.
What is a mentor really? Often we sat alone, me, naked. Scott, smiling and very happy.
Surpassing a chance to pick up a six pack at the Irving, it dawns on me. How was my posing nude helping my photography and my attempts at being a starving artist?
No matter, Mum, thought the whole idea wonderful. Her daughter the model! Something she could spellbind her friends and colleagues with at the Christmas party. Of course, she would leave out the small children, the being left alone naked with a middle aged man and the fact that, I loved it being watched.
Now that I think of it, why no pictures of my face and why did I always have to be naked even when class was not in session?
Hmm, yet another question for Beckett Couvillion the third, dog wonder!
