I went through a period in my early twenties where I had a crack at life drawing. That didn’t really work out because I was mistaken for the model, laughed far too loudly at the implication, and drew someone who couldn’t have looked less like the model even if she’d been me.
I had a go at woodcarving, but that’ll probably come up in another post.
My favourite of the crafty things, though, was clay modelling. Again, the finished bust looked rather like Miss Trunchbull in Matilda, where the model herself looked more like Avril Lavigne. Shame.
The best moment was when I tried driving home, with the bust on a board on the passenger seat. I went round a corner too fast because my mobile started ringing and startled me, and Miss Trunchbull lost an ear being, as she was, still quite squishy.
However, the teacher, a poor wretch who must have lost heart when he saw the shapes that rising around the room, decided to give each of us a brick of spare clay to take home.
Once I’d got Miss Trunchbull back into some sort of order, I started on the spare clay.
I moulded a basic head shape. I made sure it had enough support at the base to not fall down and break its nose. And then – I took a cocktail stick and scratched the lyrics to ‘Let It Be’ all the way around the head.
It’s ugly as sin, but I love it.