How not to design a girl At one time, I thought myself quite religious. I would look at photographs of the Vatican and imagine myself as a Papal Gentleman; a life of servitude couldn’t be that bad. Of course, once I found a reproduction of Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni’s “The Creation of Adam” I realized unequivocally that a life of art was the path I should choose. Now I could envision myself lying on my back atop a scaffold 70 or 80’ above the rest of the papal gentlemen as they silently and reverently observed my enlightened brushstrokes. Fresco painting is hard work, and such an attendant must be admired for his audacity and his or her willingness to forgo their health for the glory of one’s muse. Some of the hazards that they faced were – a. Pigments Absorbed by Inhalation b. Death by ridicule c. Pigments Absorbed through the skin or by mouth (the duality is frightening) d. Treacherous falls and faulty scaffolding e. Imaginary Papal tsunamis and hurtful, secretive missives f. Fractionalization and mob hysteria (am I off track?) During this spiritual awakening, I even found myself praying at night before I fell off to sleep, praying that my parents and brothers and all the people in the world were safe and joyous and even praying for miscellaneous, unattainable fantasies. Growing up as I did with six brothers and a father and mother simply served to further and solidify the sainthood of my dear mother, who kept rein on us in with a stern and compassionate holiness. This provided me with immediate and constant proof of my enlightened decision to embrace the church. The oppressive ‘maleness’ of my dear home life, with its accompanying overdose of testosterone, the unattainable scarceness and wonder and mystification of the concept of a ‘girl’ slowly took a toll on me and finally brought me to my empirical decision. I must use my skills as an artist, designer and colorist and teach myself to design girls. I know what you are thinking… and no, it was not like that. My intentions were more that honorable! My exhaustive research into the guidelines for becoming a Papal Gentleman prepared me for this unique and inimitable eventuality. And besides, I was not going to simply design girls, I was going to design ‘a’ girl, or rather ‘the’ girl. You know the one that doesn’t walk, just simply floats from mist to mist…. Ah yes. Have you seen her? Never mind, I am the artist here; I know what must be done! So I set about assembling my ingredients as if I was going to grind the purest pigments for my fresco. I hastily scribbled what I needed on a yellowed and stained flyleaf from my copy of Giorgio Vasari’s, “Lives of the Artists”, a book incidentally I would not need any more once I had succeeded in designing HER. Yes, that is how she has come to be known, you see it is hard to design something, create from scratch, something that is completely hidden, elusive and mysterious in your psyche, something that is impossible of you to ever, even begin to understand. So how did I overcome this obstacle? By naming of course, that hidden and immensely powerful attribute of language! I named her – “HER. Put away your steels and rapiers fools…. I am the poet here also! My list. Yes, my list, how can one create without a list? I began studying herbs and essential oils, the alchemy signs and symbols, I started to teach myself both Classical Latin and Vulgar Latin, but to no avail. It was useless. It did not take more than a millisecond for me to realize my capabilities, my experience, my dreams and desires were like the abject futility of a butterfly flapping its wings and expecting a tornado to occur. I fell into a profound and suffocating depression. All my dreams and fantasies about HER fell around my feet like a sugar crystal chandelier in a rainsquall. All my training, all my impeccable research left me no further along than my childhood fantasies of Pastoral gentlemanness. HER would be out of reach forever, I was no Da Vinci, I could not even invent a meaning for my life let alone design a girl. Now I can only dream, when I think of HER I am overcome with a synesthetic radiance, I begin to sense the sweet, elusive scent of the miniature, Rare Pink Lily of the Valley Pip -Convallaria rosea and it incapacitates me completely. The list? Men and boys, you are on your own. Women and girls, you know who you are…
Posted on: Thu, 11 Sep 2014 00:43:09 +0000
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