All Dali could paint was melting clocks and things

I have to write about Art for this week’s Sunday Scribblings.
Do you remember me telling you about the flower and produce show in my parents’ village? One year as well as my vegetables and things I entered a painting in the arts and crafts section. Don’t laugh!

Well a few years ago I joined an art class. Up until then the nearest thing I’d done to a picture was painting by numbers or filling in a colouring book. But my Mum always thought I had flair. She liked the way I added my own interpretation the picture I was colouring . I was flattered of course, but if the truth be told I used to get muddled with the colours and had great difficulty staying inside the lines! She took that to be me expressing myself.

Anyway, I religiously went to the village hall for my classes every Wednesday night and really came on well. I didn’t always understand my teacher’s one word comments. He would say ‘yessss’ or screw his eyes up and say ‘mmmm’

The highlight of the six week course was to be a life study. I didn’t really know what a life study was but I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to appear stupid. So you can imagine my shock when a handsome young man came into the room and took his kit off!

At first I thought a streaker had invaded our class, but when no one else seemed particularly alarmed I realised that we were about to paint a nude. I was SO embarrassed. I didn’t know where to look. Actually, I did know where to look and ....wow....!

I thought I did a pretty good job of it. Ok, my painting was not exactly life like, It was a painting after all, not a photograph. But I was encouraged by my monosyllabic teachers comment – ‘I say!’ he muttered. I took that as quite a compliment.

So back to the village art and crafts competition. I entered my life study, in fact I titled the piece ‘Life Study’.

I didn’t win. The first prize went to my Mother for her dull water colour of a boring bunch of flowers. Second was a landscape which I reckoned was copied from a post card and third was a portrait of a man with big ears. It was called ‘Prince Charles’ but I couldn’t see any likeness - except for the ears!

Just as I turned to walk away a special prize was announced for the most original painting in the competition. As I kept walking I heard the name Rosemary Pinkerton called out. I thought lucky Rosemary then realised the prize was going to me!

I turned to see the Vicar holding up the painting with a huge grin on his face. ‘Strewth’ I thought. The vicar is smiling at a picture of a naked man! Whatever next?

Then he said something along the lines of ‘It’s not often we see impressionist paintings in our annual contest’

I was about to call out that it was not intended to be an impressionist painting, when my friend Keith appeared from nowhere and clamped his hand across my mouth. ‘Don’t say a thing’ he whispered. ‘Just smile and accept your prize graciously’

The vicar continued ‘The judges could not fail to be charmed by this amusing yet understated image of a.....of a.....’

Then he paused, looked at the picture and then at the judges. They all looked blank and old Major Trumpleforth shrugged his shoulders.

He continued ‘this image of .....of......a pig. Yes, a prize pig’

I gave up art. I clearly never was going to be the next Picasso or Constable. I still have the prize, a little silver sculpture of a dog – or is it a cow? I’ve never really been sure.


gautami tripathy said...

The resemblance between a nude man and a pig...Well, you nailed it girl!

gautami tripathy said...


rough drafting of art

Fledgling Poet said...

lol...I loved this post and your sense of humor. I took a drawing class once that had nude models...I was surprised at how quickly my nervousness disappeared once I had to focus on just drawing the body lines. It is a shock, though, the first time that robe drops...! :~)

Lilibeth said...

Ha. What a great story. I loved the way you told it, and I just have to find out what happened to the rather nebulous man/pig.

Marguerite said...

Loved this story--made me laugh as always. I've never taken a drawing class, but now I know what to expect (hehe).

myrtle beached whale said...

great story. you seeing men as pigs requires further investigation.

GreenishLady said...

Wonderful! I recall being crushed when the painting I made of a mouse on a wall (I know! I know!) was mistaken for a cat, but it didn't win any prizes! I'd love to see the actual picture. Do you still have it?

Regina Marie said...

Oh..so funny! "I say"...great story!

Granny Smith said...

In the life classes I attended the men wore loin clothes. It was the women who were completely nude. I knew a man who took life classes just for the chance to observe the nude women.

This story is very funny - as always.

bellamocha said...

I love this story, it really made me smile Rosey! But I also really like how you've written it with such humor and modesty- and the surprise at the end which I didn't see coming!

A great SS, thank you! Mine's up too.

Bella :)

Whitesnake said...

So Ya didnt bring home the bacon huh?

Did ya get his Number?

Ann (bunnygirl) said...

I liked this, and it certainly brought back memories. We had models in my college art class, but it was a sketch class and it seemed we were always required to work in charcoals on live model days. If anyone ever figured out what I was drawing, good for them!

Leonard Blumfeld said...

Strewth ... hilarious anecdote!

Tumblewords: said...

Your writing is always a giggle and a grin. Great fun...

b said...

I think your words may have painted a better picture than your words.

Jennifer Hicks said...

how wonderful! i love this story!
and I love your description of "taking off his kit"!
congratulations. oink, oink.

Quill Feather said...

Very readable and engaging.
I like your fresh, chatty style.
Enjoyed it.