Be an Artist (or just look like one)

Posted

I'm a little reluctant about posting one piece on top of another one of mine, but it's not my fault Tom isn't saying something about how Trump cares more about his personal gain than our country. It's Sunday. I'm posting.

When I first started doing art... wait, that's not right. When I first thought it was important to be thought of as an artist, I tried to look more like an artist. This was, possibly unfortunately for me and for fashion, at about the same time, 1965, when I'd just started high school, and I also, having started board surfing over the summer, wanted to actually look like a surfer.

The surfer uniform in Southern California included a J C Penny's t shirt (because they had a higher neckline); Levis 501s (back when one had to slam them against the bed a few times to loosen them up); deck shoes (red if available); and a sweater (older the better, but not a button up), or nylon windbreaker (could be fleece-lined, but had to be colorful, possibly with stripes- extra credit for surf logo such as Dewey Weber).

Some variation was allowed, of course; madras shirts, starched, were allowed. Pendleton flannel shirts could be worn. What wasn't allowed was Sears jeans with flannel lining, striped "Beach Boy" t shirts (seems like it should have been okay, it was in junior high), and semi-bowling shirts that were a rage with non-surfers and moms. 

It took me a while and some serious kit-to-parent conversations to look like a surfer, but I did hold onto my artsy green vest. Artsy. Semi-connected to the beatnik era, over, but just catching on with the media (Dobie Gillis, anyone?), this, paired with my favorite non-madras button up shirt, was my look; at least until I fell asleep and left the vest on the bus.

Though, despite my efforts and clothing choices, I have probably never quite looked like a surfer OR an artist, even with paint-smudged clothes, I persist. I have experienced jealousy, particularly when I was at community college, 1969, was surfing every day, worked as an apprentice in a sign shop, and still had to go to class with really hip-looking artsy types.

Yeah, I still try; and, sometimes, around Halloween, when some kid is looking at me in the checkout line, I have to explain that, "No, it's not a costume. I AM a house painter." Of course, when I see other house painters, clean white pants and shirts (these are the handiest places to wipe one's hands, and I do), I do think I could look more like a painter.

No, probably not. Oh, just remembered I do own a coat with patches on the elbows, in case I want to look more like a writer.