Chapter 30 - Art I
I have a buddy, and he's an artist. What I call a real artist, not simply an artist. An artist, a run of the mill one? They clearly or usually have some ability. Even a fair bit of talent, and its fairly obvious, too. But most of them, when you look at the hands and feet? The rest of the pretty lady they sketched is very realistic, and has that patented artist's realism and depth and shading.
But 99 percent of them, no matter how perfect the rest, you tend to see weak hands and feet. This artist, was the first I was ever fairly close friends with. He said simply, in his usual quiet manner, that's because hands and feet are about the hardest thing to nail down perfect. In response to the fact that I had related this about hands and feet, and moreover just complimented him on his hands and feet work? I'm allowed to scuff through a giant sketch pad all filled up. They were spectacularly realistic. And yes, a whole section of this giant thick sketch pad was devoted to what looked like cut off hands and feet. To a layman like me that knows nothing of art, it looked like DaVinci level work. He assured me, he wasn't even considered a pro at this.
We had met at an after hours coffee spot, and I had a chess game with me. Coffee and chess and conversation led to our spending spare time together.
One day, after knowing him for years. He reminded me of his constant complaint. He wished he could sculpt. That was... some higher plateau of an artist to him. I guess I had forgotten him telling me he was working in clay now. I missed the significance of that bit of minutiae.
So? I walk in his place one day, to pick him up for coffee.
He hands me... a small clay human head. The base of where the neck is sliced off? Is smaller than my palm. Really not much more than a golf ball in size. Its incredibly realistic, for a clay head. I marvel at it. He asks me. Just blurt out a name? Who that head looks like. I said, really a lot like this one actor, and I named him by name. He asked me what movie, that this head looked most like him in. Hmm. I picked a movie.
Now he hits me with an envelope. Would I describe the envelope to him. Its sealed. Its postmarked. Would I open it up. I did. A piece of paper simply had the name of a famous male actor on it, folded up. I read it off. Followed by a movie he had once been in. Read that off, as well.
He got me to admit that the postmark proved, that this letter being sealed? Was a couple weeks ago. About the time he started talking about trying clay out. He was proving that he could imagine a real head of someone? And make it in clay from scratch. Not just make something, and see who it most resembles then go for that. No. He had set out to do this man's head, as it appeared in that movie. With no knowledge? I picked it from sight.
Very impressive, from a standpoint of how good of an artist he was. All self taught. This, was several years ago. You can imagine how skilled he is at doing clay sculpture now. Years back, he did realism for his first attempt. Now? He wants more than perfect realism, he's trying to add artistic flair.
He has another artistic hobby. He did clay sculptures of these monsters from a famous movie. He was making molds of of his sculptures, and casting them in resin. Some special resins? I liked the powdered metal clear resins the best, though some things like talcum powder or fine grained sand looked expensive as hell.
He made the most incredibly detailed dragon, in arching and reaching and pointing artistic poses. He cast it in among other things, first a clear resin. He used a small vacuum pump on a sealed chamber, to lift the tiny bubbles out and make it look like a glass dragon when it popped out of the silicone mold he had cast and cut off of the clay perfect sculpture.
He did various additives to the clear resin and vacuuming off the bubbles and wet sanding the finished products. Some sand or talcum powder made stone or marble looking casts of that dragon. But, the powdered brass or aluminum though expensive? Perhaps my favorites.
By the gallon of mixed resin, a one pound powdered brass mixture? Is a whole pound if powdered real brass per gallon of final product. A three pound mix? Three pounds of powdered brass. The highest and of course highest price? Something like 11 pound mix. There's so much brass in the clear resin. that it looks almost like real brass was cast.
Impressive work. He once dreamed of being an illustrator of something cool. Now he wishes he could sculpt something "big and cool" and get paid to do it. A real professional artist, as he thinks of it.
My own nickname for him, and I give all people nicknames? Artist Dude. I know and am friends with a guy that runs his own one man operation, a used car lot. He buys them at auctions, works on them himself, and details and sells at a good profit on average. He makes more than I do, being his own mechanic and car dealer. O, I call him appropriately enough, Car Dude. Naturally, this guy is Artist Dude. I'm bad at names, but nicknames always stick, if I make one up.
My artist friend? In my own head only, he's perhaps the only lazy person I approve of wholeheartedly. He will do anything, to avoid working full or even part time. He has a never ending set of strategies to be at home, able to eat and live indoors, and do nothing for months but his self given art projects.
No go get them speech? Will ever touch him. He smiles easily, and shakes his head. Says that if you gave him a million dollars a year, he would simply be doing just what he's doing on unemployment for a year and a half anyways. Art. As long as he can finagle the raw materials and food and lay out the minimum bills to live indoors? Art.
This is all in the past, and by god he gets better with naturally each and every year. I recently showed up at his front door? And I produced a small jar of... store bought super duper weed. Something like 28 percent. Top, of, the, line. I was smiling. His face lit up on low wattage, then he opened the door, waving me in. His wife was gone to her sister's for the weekend, and the kids went with her as well.
I rolled us up a decent sized joint of this wonder weed. We were passing it back and forth, and I'm urging him on for more hits when he said he was already dizzy. More, more. We had a laughing fit saying silly stuff.
I was clicking on the internet, and showed him something. He read it off.
"Hey. You. Do you think you're a real artist? Enter this contest. We're a private art production corporation, and we're searching for new talent for a big huge project coming up. If you win this contest? You win cash and prizes only a true artist could appreciate. Click here for details of how your life could go from starving artist, to well funded artist... overnight!"
I looked at him. With my blood shot eyes, my face wearing a silly grin.
"Whoa, dude. You know the rule. If its too good to be true? You know it is."
"Yeah. But I got to click on it."
"No, dude. I can't let you do that."
I slapped his hands away. Smiling like only a silly pot head can do, with his smoked up compatriot smiling dopey back at him.
"What the fuck..."
He laughed it out, this was silly. I made a funny voice, the fake voice of humorous authority for pure comedic effect.
"Dude. Its going to look cool. Hell, its going to look awesome. But, its actually going to suck. In the end? It will suck. It won't be cool, like it looks. Dude, I'm sparing you the hype? And the crash. I'm good looking out for you, bro."
"I throw a flag. Its my computer. And? My wife paid the internet bill."
I put my index finger up.
"Counter point. I? Was given this computer, two years ago. It was fucked up. It wouldn't work. I wiped the hard drive, I shit an installation of Doorways on it, for free I might add. Without me? There... simply is no computer."
He smiled. We play chess and drink coffee for fun. We both try to outmaneuver the other, any way we can. For fun.
"If you physically prevent my hands from clicking on that? You go home eventually. I'll just see it later, anyways. And? It will impact your visiting. You, need me? For a coffee and chess buddy."
"True. I allow you to look. I will note, for the record before I let you look? I object."
He smiled back.
"Objection? Noted."
"Ahem!"
"What now?!"
"I strongly object."
"Oh, well. You strongly object. Over ruled!"
We giggled as he fake fought me with faux slapping, and he clicked on the link in his mail. I asked him.
"Where did this come from?"
"Christ almighty, Sikey. You call me, Artist Dude. I? Get art shit in my email. You? Do computer shit. You? Are Computer Dude. You get computer shit in your email."
He clicked. He smiled a shit eating grin my way, and began to read. He adjusted his half height glasses and started.
"Hello. You clicked to see about the artist contest. Here's the deal, friend. We? Have a big client. Its a large commission piece, any way we look at it. Expensive, large, difficult and demanding. We're looking for fresh undiscovered artistic talent with this project in mind. So this contest, is designed to find us the winning artist that we think we're looking for. If you would like to go from starving artist, to a well funded professional artist literally overnight? Click here."
He clicked, with another shit eating grin.
"Here is the contest. We send you, an email. The email, will have a picture of a human head. Your mission, is to recreate this human head, exactly as you see it in the photo we send you. You make it in clay. You? Send in pictures of your clay sculpture, trying to recreate the photographs we send you. If we think the photographs of your work is interesting? We'll request that you mail in your clay head to us. We'll send you a debit card, to defray all shipping expenses. When we're done reviewing all the pictures, and then done reviewing the clay sculptures that we pick out? We'll declare a winner, and its simply whichever one we like best and feel like selecting. If you're still interested, click here to see what you win."
He clicked. Now so engrossed, he forgot to shoot me the shit eating grin.
"The winning artist, will receive a one year lease, provided free of charge. Of a studio apartment, with all utilities paid for. You see, the winner? Receives the commission for the project. You'll be given a photo of someone, and you'll make a life size clay sculpture of that person. In whatever pose you're given as a reference. When completed? You'll make a mold of your life size clay statue. You'll then cast the life size mold, in resin with powdered metal. After the metal statue is thus cast? A solid block of clear resin will be cast around it, as the specification for this project. All materials required, will be paid for and shipped to your provided studio. When you're completed with the commission work? You will be paid the sum of 20,000 dollars. And? You'll get the satisfaction of seeing your work dedicated and revealed in public ceremony. If this sounds like your future that you can see changing your life as an artist for the best? Click here."
"And... please send us your email."
Minutes later, he had mail. It was a picture of an older guy. A couple of them, actually.
"Are you going to make a clay head, of this old dude?"
"Why not. Dude. If I get to make that big statue, do you realize how much I can charge, for making statues, with a big one to show them what I can do? You can't count that high. Yes, most great artists starve. But a lucky few of them? Earn damn good livings doing important professional shit."
About ten days later, we had smoked a lot of pot, and eaten a lot of junk food, drank a lot of coffee, and otherwise enjoyed ourselves having fun while his old lady and the kids stayed at her relative's place for an extended period of time. It wasn't the first time she had this family vacation, and it probably wouldn't be the last. He emailed in his proud cell phone pictures from many angles.
He made a clay head. To me? But I'm a random person off the street, and have no idea what I'm talking about. Shown the picture? Yeah, to my eye the clay head looks like a clone of the photo guy. As a gesture of goodwill, I popped the few bucks to ship his clay head when an email requested that. He sealed it in low temperature wax, and packed it in a box of his choosing. He thanked me for paying for the canning wax and the post office shipping. I noted how it cut off three days of waiting for them to ship the debit card to him.
A month later, I was pretty much weekly teasing him. That someone was selling his clay head work-piece that he wasn't paid for... in this elaborate scam. Then he gloated when he got an email. He was a finalist, he was told. I mean, go and figure but that he was ecstatic about it.