I’ve lost count of all the paintings I’ve done, but each one has a story behind it,
And if I jog my memory, I can remember most of them.
Here are a few.
This was a study I did in art class. My teacher wanted me to learn to paint texture, hence the elephant’s wrinkly skin.
I spent so much time on this damned pachyderm, I started to become on a first-name basis with him.
So for my own amusement (and to annoy the serious old biddies in the class) I proudly announced that I would call this painting ”BUCKWHEAT”.
One of these ladies asked me: ”WHAT…in GOD’s name is a “Buckwheat?”
“Why…THAT ELEPHANT, OF COURSE!”, I replied.
Needless to say, she didn’t appreciate my answer.
(Did I mention I liked to annoy the serious old biddies in my class?)
My Favorite Rocks
I did this the day I got a shitty pay raise at my old job.
I was so depressed and so demoralized, I wanted to cry.
Instead, I sat down for four straight hours and painted this. It turned out to be the best thing I had ever done at the time.
I guess they’re right, when they say artists must suffer.
I was going aways for the weekend and it was a 3 hour drive to my friend’s house.
Just before I left, I decided to paint a quickie.
I pulled this one off in an hour.
Sometimes, it works that way.
The stars line up, everything falls into place, and you end up with a keeper.
And you’ll never be able to duplicate it quite the same way again, no matter how hard you try.
This was one of those special paintings.
House from Hell
Dammit, I worked SO hard on this.
It was an old brick house on the West Island of Montreal, and I was trying to paint it in art class.
This other student sitting next to me (a stupid witch I couldn’t stand) kept telling me I was doing it wrong.
Of course, she couldn’t draw or paint jack-shit herself. But she was more than eager to point out all MY errors.
And she would NOT shut the #@$% up about it.
I kept trying to ignore her, but the painting wasn’t going well. I just couldn’t’ get the perspective quite right.
Half way through the class, my teacher shook her head, and told me the painting was beyond fixing, and I had to reluctantly agree.
Of course, the Witch chimed in: ”See? I TOLD HIM! I TOLD HIM he was doing it wrong, I TOLD HIM!”
I got so fed up, I set fire to my house.
I figured if I ruined the painting, then at least I might as well get some amusement out of it.
10 years later, the burning house still makes me laugh.
Depot Lake Road
Getting back to the Painting Witch.
By this time, I was quite pissed off at her, and was on the verge of tearing her a new one.
Instead, I took out a photo, and used my anger to start a new painting, right in front of her.
I splashed my paint willy-nilly, and finished this 9″ x 12″ before the class was over.
Just to prove that I could.
…I can still see her mouth dropping open in amazement.
(And THAT…was far more satisfying than any screaming or yelling I could have done to her!)