I've been going to art classes out at Corban's in West Auckland, where my dad has a studio. Corban's is an old wine distillery which is now used as a workspace for artists and a venue for art classes. Every Wednesday I make the trip out to Henderson and the traffic is a shocker. A trip that normally takes 20 minutes takes one hour. It blows my mind to think that some people sit through that hell everyday - crawling along the motorway for miles, baking in the late afternoon sunlight and marinating in a cloud of dust and ozone layer-destroying fumes. We are as bad as I imagine Americans to be. Why doesn't the council get the trains up a to a decent standard and charge a tax for cars using the inner city like they do in London?
Anyhow once I get off the motorway (with a huge sigh of relief), I'm in West Auckland which has become very cool lately, possibly due to the exceptionally good weekly drama '
Outrageous Fortune' about a family of Westie crims, which is without a doubt one of the best NZ TV weekly drama series made in my lifetime. Or is it the only NZ TV weekly drama series made in my lifetime? Either way, it's the highlight of my Tuesday evenings.
I'm in West Auckland to learn how to draw. My tutor is a woman called Robin Binsley and she is a saint. Most of the class are women except for one young guy who is there with his mother, whether against his will or not it's hard to figure out because his facial expressions alternate between deep despairing gloom and considerable enjoyment. He does cool pictures too. Taking art classes takes me back to when I was at primary school. I muddle around with pencil and crayons and then trot off home to proudly show my parents what I drew today, revelling in their exclamations of delight. I'm a bit miffed that they haven't stuck any of my work on the fridge, though. Then there's the conversations during the class when we take breathers, or go to look at each other's work, which also remind me of being about eight years old again.
They go something like this:
'Wow, I love your landscape, it's so gentle and rolling...and what you've done there, with the light, it's really fantastic.'
'Nooo...I really can't get it right, I find it so difficult to get the tonal differences. I much prefer yours, with the way you've managed to get that sense of depth right there-'
'No, really, yours is great, you should get it framed.'
Read:
'Your picture's cool.'
'Nah, mine's stink. Yours is good.'
'Nah, yours is better.'
Just like we were at primary school. Funny how ingrained it is in our culture to talk ourselves down, to be modest and self-effacing.
So yeah, my artwork sucks...maybe. But I might get it framed anyway.
