art

Aging Superpower: THE SHAPE SHIFTER

As we age, our bodies take on new shapes.

D’uh, I’m not telling you anything new. We collect some around the middle, boobs fall, asses drop, upper arms wing-out… it can cause a lot of grief, especially when you stand naked in front of a mirror and say WTF happened? The worst is when you droop-shame yourself. You got older, that’s what happened.  If you’ve ever had to get yourself out of some Spanx with a crowbar, you know what I’m talking about.

I signed up for some Art School.

Who would have thought that spending time in a figure painting class would give you a new appreciation of the human body? I want to sound like an academic painter here, but I’m not, so let me begin by saying:

Perky boobs are just not fun to paint.

If there is one thing I can take away from my art class it is that bigger is better because bigger captures light, creates shadows, adds dimension and is fucking beautiful. Period.

No offense to really thin models, but they make you feel like you’re in a medical drawing class. Pass.

The female body is amazing…shape shifting and all. We need to start a new movement. Our changing bodies are a superpower…at least on canvas.

 

 

Found My First Selfie

In the summer of 1975, as an early birthday present, my Dad bought me my first 35mm SLR camera. I remember how hard I lobbied for it (now I know where my kids get it from) and how excited I was to finally get it. It was a Canon FTb and it had the coveted 10 second timer which, back-in-the-day, allowed you to be in your own photos.

I can tell a lot from this photo and I am certain that I hadn’t yet figured out how to use that 10 second timer. I shot a few portraits of my Dad that day, but he got annoyed that I was interrupting his lawn mowing.

If you look closely, you’ll notice that the price tag is still hanging from the strap. I’m standing on my back patio, taking a photo of myself in the reflection of the sliding glass door and probably thinking, “I look so cool holding this camera!”  and there in the background, is my Dad, captured on film, trying to escape the “Just one more” pleas of yours truly.

Back-In-The-Day Boobs

For three hours every week, I stand in a large room full of artists, some accomplished, some not and paint with Pastels. I call it my serious group therapy. There’s very little chatter in the class, but the swell of everyone’s focus puts you in an unusual zen that’s tremendously supportive. In terms of group work-outs, this being a mental one, I find it refreshing not sweating and standing behind someone who needs to add more than lettuce to their diet.

When the instructor announces, “Next week we’re having a model”, I’m tempted to raise my hand and say, “Please get a woman cause I hate to draw dicks”, but I hold my tongue and go with the mellow flow of the class, hoping I can secure a rear view of the guy because I just don’t like staring at a dick for 3 hours. Wish I could share that with the class, but it’s so inapropriate and com’ on…it’s true.

Thankfully, we had a beautiful 20 something woman. When she disrobed to set her pose, I wondered what all the men in the class were thinking. When you draw the figure, you really look beyond what is in front of you. You focus on the light, the dark,the cast shadows, etc. but seriously, you do have initial thoughts of which you think, but NEVER share.

My initial thought was, I used to have boobs like that, which was followed by, I hope she wears a good bra when she exercises, and rounded out with, those molded-cup t-shirt bras are a godsend.

I call this painting, Back-In-The-Day Boobs.