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Fifty-Third Sitting

...So We walked out on the now only paper-thin layer of snow on that last Friday morning, hurrying in our running gear to the class that We would have been early for had We not spent so much time restoring neatness to Our respective lives, which of course dissolved into sentimental banter about this fact. So We pranced; We jaunted... So happy just to be there together, throwing (very small) bits of snow at each other... Hey, you know... I should write this scene from the point of snow. No, silly. I'm actually getting comfortable writing sort of normal narrative, I think. Scary. Cards. Need I say <<Wink>>?

So after the eighteenth bit of sharing and caring and physical humor, We arrived at class, the same class I had attended earlier, that being art history. Two things occurred here (besides my coolly and objectively noticing how many attractive women there were in the class -- my eye twinkles so!): First, We saw a spooktacular movie about the pyramids, about how mysterious they are and how you can predict the end of the world by them and ease dental pain and get rich by sensationalizing shit that frankly just happens. I'm sure La Professora had a point in showing it, but I don't really know what it was. The point is, it was movie day, which is always good even if they're showing a movie about golf (I've seen at least two of these). Second, I received an assignment. Well, not just me, but everybody, and each person's was different, because each person was given a different picture to write about. Now, I seem to have lost my picture, but I do have the directions, from which I will quote:

1. Study the attached reproduction very carefully.

2. To the best of your ability and according to the quality of the reproduction describe the object. Identify material and technique, possibly function. (What is it? What is it made of? How was it made? Why was it made?)

3. Identify subject matter and explain content. (What does it represent? What does it mean?)

4. On the basis of your observations try to identify when and where and by whom the object was created.

5. Consult references and assess your observations and classifications. Identify possible problems or difficulties you may have encountered.

Let's see... How can I say this without sounding cheesy? Oh, I can't. The reproduction I will be using is the picture I stole of Her, from Her apartment, of Her doing pottery. She said She was going to send it to someone, but it just sat and sat right there next to where I was sleeping in Her room, repeatedly enchanting Me with its proof that She existed before She met Me. ...So now that part of Her is Mine too, or more precisely not mine in the same way the rest of Her is. Plus it's a damn good picture; it really stole Her soul, you might say (if you was a noble savage). The "original," then, is the work of art. God, She is beautiful.

1. Study it? What have I been doing for the last three-some weeks? I know every nook of the foreground figure, and I care not that She is covered in clay... She's all the more beautiful for the (Can I say it?) elemental quality. A half hour passes and I'm still studying it, drifting in thought, mouthing soft adoration...

2. The object is my She. My beautiful, wonderful She. It appears to be a female figure sitting at a potter's wheel, left hand resting on a sort-of-spherical lump of clay, right hand pointing diagonally behind Her at a finished pot, cylindrical at its base, then bulging out, then returning for the brim. She wears blue jeans and a green sweatshirt, both spattered with clay, which is mostly whitish but very brown in some places, especially in a fist size glop over Her heart. Her hair is dark brown with lighter highlights, and it hangs down in strands, having been secured by a barely visible green and white scrunchie (Her word) to keep it out of Her face. Her head is tilted to the right and slightly down, so that both eyes are visible, but only the left ear. A few strands of hair follow the curve of this ear, one of them streaked with clay. A few other strands are also streaked, adding highlights to Her highlights. Equal portions hang down visibly in front of Her soft but firm-looking shoulders, coming down almost to the level of Her armpits. The left hand is fully visible and clay-covered, while the right hand, pointing away from the viewer, betrays only a blur of fingers. Her right shoulder stands slightly higher than Her left, leaving on the left a good expanse of appetizing bare neck, and Her jawline is smooth and natural, ending in a chin with just the right level of pointiness. Her eyebrows are rich and dark, but not overly bushy, while her cheeks grow to a beautiful round bulb on each side of Her perfect nose. Her smile is like the Mona Lisa but happier, while Her eyes... Man, the eyes are riveting. Her gray combined with the pupil black comes off as a rich brown spark set in the left half of each eye, looking straight out at Me. The combined effect is devastating.

What is She made of? Why was She made? Beats Me. At this moment, I hardly care.

3. The subject is Her, and She means everything to Me.

4. This question again... She is of Anglo-Saxon descent... Her dress could be anywhere Western, and fairly timeless. But I'd have to guess that She was created on December 30th, 1968. No. Forget that I know that. I would have to say... Can I say this without sounding cheesy? Definitely not. She was shot straight out of heaven, up in a clam shell from the brimy sea, down from the sky in a shimmer of gold... break down, feeling totally hazy, lack of oxygen, the collarbone tingles.

5. References? I only have a few books here, as you know, and little attention to reading them, rapt as I am in this effort. I'll work on it. The same with... problems. I'm just... so tired...

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© 1993 Mark A. Linsenmayer [ Contents ]