February 26, 2022: Star Pupil -

 The first day of seventh grade, Miss Lanigan* decided to tell us about dividing by zero, specifically that anything divided by zero equals zero.

I didn’t buy it. It seemed pretty obvious that dividing something into zero parts was the same as not dividing it at all. Yes, it was too bad – a shame, really - that this meant six divided by zero, and six divided by one, were both six. But those were the breaks! It was just the way the entire cookie does not crumble.

I would not be moved from this view, and I explained to it Miss Lanigan several times. Many years later, I met a different teacher from my junior high, and she burst out laughing when she heard my name. She said Miss Lanigan had walked into the teachers’ lounge after fifth period and announced that it was going to be a long year.

(*It was Miss Lanigan, because “Ms” either hadn’t happened, or hadn’t reached my junior high.)

One of my very best bosses called me a pain in the butt, but a VALUABLE pain in the butt. On a different occasion, he told me not to be “willfully dense.”  My blurted riposte was, “It’s not willful!” And we’re still great pals, twenty years later, so I guess that all worked out.

These anecdotes are evidence, if any were needed, that I don’t always excel at going along with the program. And I am once again doing my own thing, this time in an online Abstract Art class. It started in September, it runs through August, and I think it’s safe to say the instructor already knows it’s going to be a long year.

Every month, she posts a couple of videos demonstrating some principle of abstract art. All month long, we are meant to post paintings that display said principle, and we are encouraged to comment encouragingly, or to give suggestions, if solicited by the artist. (I do not solicit suggestions. I dimly understand some people took the class to be part of a Community. But I really only want advice from two of the painters, and if I ask for suggestions, I’m going to hear from Loretta, who will suggest a POP of PINK, and I am not going to add a POP of PINK. It would be rude to say, “Betsy, Yolanda, do you have any feedback? Everybody else, save your breath. Please.”)

Mid-month, we have a Zoom call. Sigh. And at month’s end, when the next lesson drops, the teacher records a critique of the paintings (if any) that we have submitted for her expert opinion.

I wandered off the trail in October, month two, when the topic was composition, and we were supposed to try to make six paintings, each one of these classic formats:  the H, the Z, the X, the L, the T and the Cantilever. (Surprise!) We were to start by painting, say, a giant Z  over much of the canvas. Then we were to obscure it. Then we were to paint it in again. Then we were to obscure it again.  Then we were to turn it 90 degrees, or 180 degrees. Or not. Then we were to choose a limited palette of colors and paint over it, but not entirely. Then we were to divide it by zero.

I liked my H and my Z. I still do. I didn’t like the others. But I decided to paint the whole alphabet, as a project. A challenge!  A way to stop painting the same thing over and over, which had started happening before I signed up for the class.

No one asked me to paint the alphabet. No one said it was a good idea, and it isn’t. There’s a reason B is not one of the classic compositional shapes. I have learned this the hard way.

And no one associated with the class is dying to hear, or see, how it‘s going. They are by now hiking into the highlands of Abstract Art – wherever that may be -  and I’m still sitting on the seashore, picking up Cool Rocks and going, Look at THIS!

   

(The sign was posted on a local phone pole. I suspect the rock lover and I are kindred spirits.)

But I keep sending in paintings for the critique, because I can. I paid for the class. I’ll get a lot out of it, even if it isn’t what the instructor intended.

This month, the critique recording was about an hour long, and my painting was last.  I think she was getting pretty tired.  She pulled it up on her screen as she does, and she said, “And finally, here’s Celia’s painting. Celia, you never fail to disappoint.”

Then she started to say something about the painting, and then she stopped herself, and she said NO! No! And then the whole recording stopped, and there was a pause. And then it cut out completely. And another tiny recording began, and it was just her face, and she said, “Celia! That’s not what I meant to say! I had too many negatives! I hope you are laughing! Tell me you are laughing!”

I was laughing.

Anyway, consider this fair warning. I am wrestling with the letter G, which turns out to be the hardest of all. (Now I'm admiring the G in Got any COOL Rocks?" That's a nice G.)

When G submits, you are going to get the whole set. I need to take some semi-decent photos of them, and then the parade will happen. You’ve probably seen some of them already, but now you’ll see them all together. Make yourself comfortable.