S.B.T. 304

nonetheless it took me back in spite of graceful lladro figurines, red letters, blue stars and wired flowers to a class early on, in my spare time outside of class and asignments i enjoyed spending hours getting away from it all making "decorative" pieces, things that i would give away for gifties. things like painted bottles, wind chime seashells, all inticate handcrafted items. i was proud of these little ceramic characters i'd made for myself and would take them with me and set them up like mascots in that class (18 times a week) scale size about 3/4", maybe as big as the tip of your thumb. neatly fit on the paintshelf attached below the easel. cant find the others but each had a different color and face, tho they all had the same flat black shoes. the prof one day told me they were scary. to each his own i thought. it dawned on me i had not intended them to be scary. so, do we need my head examined, or yours, i wondered but it isnt the most important thing i need to know, lets get on with it


blue man with blonde accents________________


blue woman with blonde accents

he strolled around the class and spoke intently to each student several times, trying to teach us to "See" as he always said, "with a capital S" semicircling a pile of rusty old brokendown things, we were sizing up the possibilities of torn brown bags, plumbing pipe and oil drums and old bicycle parts, a dented car fender, nothing that could be pretty. never a bouquet of flowers, or a bowl of fruit even in honor of somebody like cezanne, no. or anything that had direct identifiability, or reactive connection in the psychological sense, no sensory overload, only seemingly monochromatic piles of junk).

"its easy to see color if its saturated," he said,"but i want you to see the color that is here, i mean really see it" (pointing to the heap on the dais in the middle of the studio) "those greys and rusts and dirt and brown are full of color, i want you to see it."

a primary course no primary colors. i should mention this was before we were invited to even think about life-drawing , not ready for the nudes, no sirreee, not equipped for figurative interruption interpretation or interest. like white-belts in karate not ready to be video-ed for the website, or in the arena for a showdown practicing forms. so upon close observation and exhaustively retrained disengagement from preconceived knowledge of what any particular item "is", the 'truth' emerged. in this case shades of blue, purples and gold and green and related subjects that were actually there, camouflaged somehow ordinarily, hinted at in nuances of light and shadow, hidden, if you will.

so i was saying "all right bring it on, bring on the piles of junk," very happy about it. it was a passage characterized by the quest for color and so in time he began inserting various colorful elements into the piles of stuff, like a beachball, a tiger lily, a bright umbrella, and asked us to see how they effected (or spread thru, as i saw it) the other surrounding areas. so at this point lights are blinking in broad daylight on broadway a gigantic spaceship overhead and angelic choirs sing hallelujah lalala .

the story of a waking, when likely it would count as a valuable lesson however, reviewing the map at the crossroads now i look around ready to forget the trash still life experience. i mean the rules are changed, kind of. the inside of the inside of the envelope that holds all vision turns inside out and opens on panoramically continuous tides whose waves arc whooshing forward. i'm grateful for that lesson, dont misunderstand. it is embedded, could be a decal, i will have to call it the invisible transparent cast. in the cast of a hue sense. question is, shall i have it removed or remodeled? i wonder what happens if i forgot about it.

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