Back while I was still articling, ten or so years ago, I went through a little phase where I fancied myself quite the Eurosnob artiste.
Or is that “arriviste”?
(“When the hell is she going to run out of those old pictures and stop boring us with them?”, you ask. However, if you are asking in the first place, I suspect you’d find the true answer to be rather depressing.)
Anyway, you might be wondering why such a cool artistic type would display a photo of her father’s village backed with cardboard from a moving box:
Never mind the fact that apparently this “artiste” had never heard of a straightedge or was otherwise incapable of cutting a straight line (the Okanagan Cider habit may have had something to do with this, mind).
Nor could she manage to nail this up an inch to the left in order to cover up the big hole in the wall.
Indeed, the only “artistic thing” about this photo appears to be the clean lines of the apartment standard parquet flooring, uncharacteristically free from litter, beer empties, etc. I have no explanation for this odd phenomenon other than to hazard a guess that it was summertime and the empties had gone to the “cottage” (i.e. the balcony).
Oh – but I missed a piece of garbage when shoving all of the other junk out of the camera view:
The Art by IKEA and dorky halogen lamp might be viewed as another clue toward the finding that I was just a big ol’ poseur.
Or is that “hoser”?
Just call me Doug, eh?
Now, where was I? Oh, yes. There is a good chance by now that you are shaking your head and thinking, “What on earth…??”. If so, you clearly don’t understand the concept of artistic irony. It’s so difficult being brilliant! Sometimes I feel so very lonely!
Plus – I had the smoking bit down perfectly (and so should I have, having had 12 years of practice at that point!). Smoking is so glamourous!!!
But I digress. During this time period, I gave up knitting as being completely recherche and tacky. In exchange, I took up photography. In black and white, of course.
Here is only one of the approximately 500 pictures I took from my apartment in an attempt to capture the gritty nature of big city living.
I picked this one because it is the only one which is not blurry.
In cold hindight, I think I failed in my goal. Might have helped had I not chosen to photograph a parking alley.
And this was another stab at a clever art photograph:
Don’t ask. I don’t know the answer. I shouldn’t admit this, but I do remember moving that sheet music back and forth for about an hour before taking this photo to get the “correct” angle.
The parquet looks good though, no?
All in all, the little “artiste” phase was rather shortlived. Mercifully so, as the photos demonstrate. It was very closely followed (as in real life, oftentimes, or so I’m told) by the “rehab” phase.
And really, all I ever wanted to do was achieve deadpan ironic art like this piece:
(I know, I know. It’s only 2 November and Armistice Day hasn’t even passed. I’ve been programmed by the Christmas displays in some of the shops which seems to start right after Labour Day. And, this was a good place to show this photo).
This was created by my brother while he was in kindergarten, I believe. It still has pride of place at my mother’s house every Christmas. I won’t share the inside family joke about the piece (particularly the deadpan aspect) – but I think this is pretty cool (although I didn’t for a very, very long time).
So, I guess some people just have the irony thing going from the cradle, and us other unfortunates just get to pretend our whole lives.
Enjoy your Saturday! Today, I’m off to my favourite dollar store, Bargain Home!!! And, of course, the LCBO…
Well, I’m done now. So take off, eh?