Dec 11, 2013
Posted on Jan 23, 2012
By Mr. Fish
Should I assume, if I’m to trust completely all that is promised by the course description, that all peckers point, like compass needles, to the same creative nirvana wherein an artist can develop his expertise and ultimately find employment, power and influence? Or, I wonder, is it the purpose of my pecker to be an insignificant part of a life drawing class, the mere purpose of which is to teach a high school graduate whose SAT scores were too shitty to qualify him for an English program the cheap parlor trick, a mechanical skill really, of rendering a human body accurately, first naked and then clothed? What then? Does he then mat and frame his crap and become just another asshole who can make money selling shit to people? I wish there were fewer of those sonuvabitches around, not more. But, then, maybe it isn’t about the commodity that’s produced by the act of art making that defines the artistry of the artist, nor is it about satiating the intellectual or emotional hunger of the observer first and foremost. Maybe being able to draw like a motherfucker brings an artist closer to some kind of insight about the human condition that other skills, like cross-stitching and pillow embroidery, don’t, and then maybe the ability to render other people in the world with a pencil and paper helps him dispel, for himself, the bogus notion that he is alone in the universe.
Maybe it’s that personal.
Maybe all that nakedness machine-gunned into an artist’s brain, nude model after nude model, eventually teaches him to demystify the singular obscenity of the individual cock or the individual pussy, the balls, the tits and ass, and integrate them into the rest of the human anatomy, like pouring notes into an allegretto or alliteration into a poem. Maybe it teaches him to recognize the sameness that all people, naked beneath their clothes, share as a virtue, a grace: proof, somehow, that humanity is composed of 7 billion specialized cells that conspire to create an immensely complicated planetary organism that requires cooperation and equal respect from all its parts to remain cohesive and alive and purposeful.
Is it then the responsibility of the art student to draw my pecker and to become an artist whose job it is to unify all of humanity around the same holistic worldview, his ability to grab the public’s attention with his gifts merely the thing that he piggybacks his goal of rescuing the species from self-annihilation upon? Could my pecker really do all that? Have I been blessed by the great good fortune to be partnered with the wizened sage, the bearded orator and savior predicted to arrive one day by countless prophecies from practically every culture that has ever existed since the beginning of time for the purpose of setting the world ablaze with truth and beauty and spiritual glee?
(Pause to allow the sound, from offstage right, of Roman soldiers busying themselves with the gathering of the boards, the hammers and the nails.)
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