Straight-edged knife, $24; rake scraper, $18; twenty-four inch armature figure, $49.95. My first lesson in clay sculpture, clueless.
I entered the studio as the last class was wrapping up. I found the class monitor, who instructed me to buy the supplies. In the school art supply store, the first clerk, an artist bear creature with glasses, was a bit hard on me for not knowing what the hell I was doing. I almost wanted to say, nevermind, I'll go home, or cry, but my fearlessness took over, and he persuaded the other clerk to help me. He was fantastic and eased my nerves a bit.
My school is a real art school. An atelier. One might imagine a man in his mid-thirties with no artistic training to be intimidated. I was.
I entered the studio again with my huge bag of supplies. The model had already begun posing so all was quiet except for the chiseling and pounding of a sculpture next door in another studio. The hammering went on throughout the duration of the class. It was nice, like the ocean breaking on a beach.
I discovered my class doesn't officially begin until next Wednesday. So all the other students are almost finished with their sculptures. The model was in his early twenties, Euro looking male with a slender tight body and an uncut penis.
After putting my armature together, the monitor showed me where to find the clay and then I just started piling clay all over it. Then shaping it.
The model was turned on the lazy Susan every 10 minutes or so. The model received a break every half hour. My internal monologue never stopped.
Wow he's kinda hot. Nice penis. I wonder if he's a grower as well. I love this. I feel like an artist. I made the back too long. This is amazing. I'm an artist. This feels so good. My sculpture is horrible. How do I make the penis? I have no idea what I'm doing. I love this. This feels right. I should have brought a snack.
I'm looking forward to my class tonight. I hope my mind shuts up, and the instructor shows up. He only comes once or twice a week.