Hello Sinister,
Every summer I enroll in a community art class. Being home from College and sick of my Studio classes there, they are always a refreshing change. The class is always the same, Advanced Painting taught by Tom James (whenever there is a newcommer, they always call him Mr. Jones by accident without fail, someone giggles and starts to sing some Tom Jones hit). The enrollment is static, a group of mostly 50+ lawyers and teachers that need to unwind from their families. One woman signs up every session (it continues durring the year) but only comes once or twice and shops without her husband's knowing instead.
Notwithstanding, the class is a riot. When I graduated from Highschool, they painted my a picture and dubbed me their Cool Cat at the Tuesday Night Fun House.
If I were to fall in love, I would pick a man from this class. Rich, a contractor and veitnam vet, brings me old Burt Lancaster films or screenplays by Tennesse Williams. He wears faded old Oxfords like I used to take for smocks from Dad's closet. His hands are hard but delicatly paint only large cats. His stories about his immigrant father and details from the lovely people of veitnam (he lived there for a while after the war) make him more interesting than anyone I could find at a B&S show anyday.
Tom would be my other love. He makes me mix tapes of Bel Canto and Nick Drake, soft French pop and Eastern European Techno. And he taught my how to tone a canvas.
Why is it that I am more interested in these characters than anyone here?
Just a thought.
Much love,
Kate
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