name: that girl in pink
location: Somewhere, India
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Tuesday, June 05, 2007

Here we go again

Some people never learn. By ‘some people’, I’m referring of course, to myself.

After admitting to unmentionable activities earlier, I’m back. To confess to some more highly shameful and extremely pleasurable pastimes.


Note to self: my next post has to be more
self-laudatory. I sound like an ass on my own blog. What I need is to do something heroic and then write about it. If only spending hours on the net helped find a cure to cancer…

Oh well, until that happens, here come some more shameful secrets.

Guilty pleasure #2.
Indulging in the arts.

It is of course, my parent’s fault.
See, I come from a generation that was brought up on the whole “You can be anything. You are talented.” doctrine.

What.A.Load.Of.Crap.

I remember how when I was little, one day
out of complete boredom I picked up our white cordless phone (remember those Panasonic ones? Everyone had one) and painted all over it with various nail polishes from my mom’s dressing table.
And instead of giving me the tight slap I so richly deserved my parents complimented me on my creativity and artistic inclinations. Thus began the great delusion – somewhere within me, I have an artistic streak.


Fortunately, the Indian school and college system managed to keep this streak well under control for the most part of my life.
Then began work and entry into adulthood, also equally time consuming and creativity killing. Then I decided to take a break from work and that’s when all the trouble started.

On a quiet street in Langford Town is a store called The Colour Factory.
It’s this cute little place where you can paint your own pottery. Just pick up an item of your choice, draw out your own design and start painting. They provide you with the paints and brushes and everything, and after you’re done, they glaze your item for you so you can take it home and show it to your friends and family with pride.

If you observe their website carefully, you’ll notice that they mostly have pictures of little kids doing all the painting. But the fear
of humiliating myself in front of children was no deterrent. One evening I decided that keeping my inner artist repressed for 28 years was enough and marched into the store to start a new, colourful phase of my life.

My first piece was a vase I’d decided I’d gift my mom (for coming up with the whole artistic streak idea in the first place). I carefully chose the design, the exact shades of colours, the stencil…every last detail was pondered over and for hours later I laboured over the vase. The experience was supremely artistic and I even sang as I painted. This is fantastic, I thought. Finally I have an answer to the age-old question, “What’s your hobby?” And I’ll actually create something beautiful that can be used.

Four hours later, the result was this:



Now if I were 3 and mentally challenged (no offence to three year olds
or the mentally challenged), my mom may have considered using this as a broken-pens or unused-spoons stand. But since I’m fairly certain I’m neither, gifting this to anyone was out of the question.

Clearly, what I needed to do was come up with a good story of where I got this unfortunate item and rethink the whole artistic streak bit.


On the former, I was successful. This? Oh, I bought this at the Blind School Mela. Done by actual blind, mentally challenged three year olds. The proceeds all go to charity. *Angelic halo glows.
*

On the latter issue however, I was finding it hard to let go. Maybe I’m not as hopeless at it as I think. Maybe this piece was just defective. If I do another one, I’m sure I’ll do much better. And besides, this is so much fun!

Refusing to kill the streak in me without a good solid go, the next Sunday I again ventured into the Colour Factory. I’ll show them! I’ll create something fabulous and I’ll gift it to my mother-in-law. Let her also know what a gifted genius her son has married.


Behold:


If you’re wondering what the fuck this is, it’s supposed to be a fish platter. And that’s a fish in the middle.

And yeah, the same blind school story holds.

You’d think that by now I ought to have learnt my lesson. But remember, this is a piece about guilty pleasures. And they’re bloody addictive.
And so I went back in. And came out with this.


Not bad huh?

Now look at the outside.


I'm proud to say I've completely unintentionally managed to create a bowl with a bad fungus infection. This piece is so hideous, hospitals have refused to take it as a bed pan (even the blind children story didn't melt their cold hearts).

But the worst part is that after continuously creating one monstrosity after another, I keep going back for more. I love sitting there and dipping my brush into the colours and paint while scowling at the other kids who tend to be less quiet than me. Each time I hope this piece will come out better than the last and it never ever does.

Ah well! I can't help it. It's the damn artistic streak in me. If you had one, you'd understand what I'm talking about.

Posted by that girl in pink  | 12:09 AM  |  52 comments