The Artist Fromerly Known as Liz

You may not know that I have an arty streak. I’m not saying I’m good, I’m just saying I streak. Artistically. My canvases are not always traditional. For example, I consider cooking an art and knowing what Cumin is good in is similar to understanding how to play purple against orange. Decorating is an art. One can only get a way with “so much” gold in their home. Things that plug in and swirl different colors on the walls have to be used sparingly. Making “mixed tapes” is an art. You can’t go straight from Merle Haggard into AC/DC unless you’ve planned the entire flow appropriately. Fashion is an art. I pick my perfumes based on what I’m wearing. I pick what I’m wearing based on mood. It’s complicated to be me.

My friend Shanna and I recently had a real adventure in art. She’s an art major graduate, so my talent is nothing compared to her “mad skills”. We went to a Mosaic shop up the road and spent an entire afternoon creating. It was actually pretty fun, even though I had some reservations that sitting there, cutting glass and gluing, would test my patience. It didn’t- it was kind of relaxing. It would have been more relaxing with beer, but what wouldn’t? At least Shanna was there so we were able to chit chat, until the other customers came in.

The “other customers”. Ah. I don’t know why other customers have to be so annoying. They came in wearing their Methodist clothing and the entire conversation was about the children they lugged in there with them or about some Mosaicing superstar, who, fortunately, was not in the shop that day. We were not so lucky on day 2.

We went in on Sunday to grout our tiles. Superstar was there and she had all of her most recent projects in tow. How many adjectives can one use to describe a mosaiced cross? Over 80, I swear. Her groupies stood around her work, ahhing and ooohing as she describe the labor involved in making these treasures. They were good, but come on. They’re shitty mosaiced crosses. It’s not like staring into the eyes of God or anything. One of her pieces had a large turquoise broach glued in the center of it. I think one of the groupies orgasmed.

I’m glad the superstar is receiving adoration for her efforts. What I don’t approve of is her redundant use of the word therapy. If she said it once, she said it 47 times: Well, it’s my therapy! or It’s cheaper than therapy! I thought I’d need therapy after hearing those phrases so many times in one afternoon. Get some new material, bitch. The mosaicing community just got two new members and we’re a rough crowd. 

•   Comments(6)    Posted by liz on 08/21 at 04:45 PM
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