Late Night Art Bangor

“She likes her little drawings” appeared to be the the main insight that my first Junior school teacher, Mr Seaton, had about me. He would regularly report this to my mum and dad at parent teacher evenings. I suspect my parents did not regard this as new information. Clearly, though, my creative genius had made an impression!

Daisy and the Man

Early on in Mr Seaton’s class, we watched an animated film about a man who had a daisy come up in his garden. The increasingly desperate man tried various ways to eradicate this weed, but every time the daisy popped back up in his lawn.

The class was tasked with coming up with our own ideas for ways the man could try to get rid of the daisy. Its fair to say that my best friend, Frances, and I took this idea and ran with it. We created ever more ridiculous ideas for daisy destruction, all of which failed as the indomitable daisy always returned. We would show each other our funny drawings, laugh our little heads off and go straight back to our pencils to do another.

In my memory this went on for weeks. We were fired up and couldn’t wait to get to school to let our imaginations run riot! It was probably shorter than I remember, but eventually, realising there was no end in sight, Mr Seaton was forced to call a halt so that we could learn other things. The Normans, probably.

It was the single most joyful episode of my entire education.

But here’s the thing – we were small.

Where Does the Drawing Go?

Recently, I tried, and failed, to engage a group of teenagers in a comics workshop. One of the main stumbling blocks seemed to be that they had already decided they could not draw. They identified as non drawing.

What happens between those daisy and the man days of 7, 8, 9 and teenage, such a short time later? Why does the fun of drawing drain away? Who tells them to abandon it? Who tells them its not for them?

Some of us, of course, somehow slip through this net. But we are not untouched by it. Of the nine subjects I had to choose for O level, in only one, Art, was I instructed to ask the teachers if I was “Good enough”. To their credit, when I did ask, my art teachers looked at me as if I was mad.

I Can’t Even Draw a Straight Line, Har Har!

I have lost count of how many people I have met who, when they learn I am an Artist, light up and immediately say “I Can’t Even Draw a Straight Line, Har, Har!”. I have always felt uncomfortable responding to this. Not just because not once has this been been funny. Not just because I’m resisting saying “Yes you can, its easy, use a ruler. That’s what I would do”. But because I also can’t help feeling like I am being subtly talked down to.

It is clear from their beaming delight, that they believe ‘not being able to draw’ (whatever that means), far from impoverishing their life, is the best policy. Theirs is the sensible, safe, normal and rational position. They are the adult in the room.

As if Artists didn’t also pay bills, commute, have children, do their taxes, vote, have jobs, send emails, respond to government consultations, and think about the state of the world etc., etc.

Do Funny Drawings, and Laugh at Them

As we all struggle to keep our feet in a world where the haters, and the polarisers seem to have all the tools, all the money, and are getting all the wins, a thought occurs to me. The last thing those people would want is that we should be showing each other our funny drawings and laughing our legs off.

So in that spirit, my studio in Boom 2 will be open this Thursday evening from 7-9pm. I may have biscuits, and I invite you to call in and laugh at my little drawings!