Reading about Grant Miller's horrible childhood ordeal by finger painting, I was reminded of a similar incident from my kindergarten days.
We were given old crayons. We were told to pick off any paper that might be left on them. I remember feeling a bit sad that some of these crayons might still be clinging to the hope that there was life left in their nubby little selves.
We were then told to use the blades of our scissors to run down the sides of the crayons to create shavings.
The teacher then described that when we had several colors of shavings, we would arrange them on pieces of paper.
She demonstrated that the paper would be folded in half and she would then help us use a hot iron to go over the sheet. We'd be left with a symmetrical design of sorts we could take home and cherish. Crayonblots.
Everyone seemed game for this but me. I let the teacher know immediately I was having no part of it. I thought it was stupid and I wasn't doing it. She spent some time trying to convince me but when she realized I meant what I said, she sent me to the corner.
The project proceeded. The rest of the kids made some truly amazing blobs of shit. When they were done, the teacher came over and said something like don't you wish you'd done one now? I told her to go fuck herself and that was that.
Flash forward a few years and I became obsessed with making candles. I'd melt down old ones to try and make new ones. My brothers enjoyed teasing me by calling me Parafino, a nickname I secretly loved because of it's Spiderman affiliation.
After ruining a few of my mother's pots including a double boiler she used to make boiled icing and other concoctions in, the folks brought me home my very own fully functional second hand stove which they set up in the basement for my candle making escapades.
I couldn't have been more than 12 years old and they bought me a stove. Wouldn't it have been easier to buy me a pot until the obsession turned to something else?
The candle making fun lasted a while and then I got really good at doing hot knives downstairs with my friends.
Waxed Paper Chase
Posted by Dale at 10:07 PM
Labels: candles are us, childhood trauma, crayons, fingerpainting, Grant Miller, Parafino
Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)
Have you ever thought about opening a store that sells scented candles, Dale?
You laugh but wait until I've perfected my I Smell Burnt Toast candle!
I don't remember receiving any homemade candles...Anyway, thanks for giving me yet another site to read (Grant Miller)and keep me from pursuing my dream of writing for a living.
Tanya, I live to cripple you in every way. Glad to hear it's working!!
Get writing you boob.
I myself never had this problem... probably because I "listened carefully" and "followed directions."
it worked for me ;)
Thanks for the Link Dale! I intend to add a bunch more links after my DSL gets going again. We should start a support group for adult children of horrible art projects.
Good for you that you refused to participate. That is the lamest project I've ever heard of. It sounds like something she made up on the spot.
But "crayonblots" made me laugh.
Shouldn't we be the judge of whether it worked or not Bre? I'm glad you were a listener though. Me? I'm not even listening now.
Hello Mr. Miller - I'm enjoying your site a lot. Especially the open thread support group that's mobilizing around you.
Chelene - Although lame, I looked it up and it seems to have been a project others were forced into to and not just a dream I had. There were however safer ways to do it. I'm always glad when you laugh. Hot knife?
Do tell about this "hot knife" . . .
Did I say hot knife coolcat? I meant doing macrame.
I have this friend who keeps talking about how he wants to have people over so he can have "craft night": we'll make collages and maybe stencil t-shirts and glue macaroni to tin cans. He is a grown man with a PhD and he talks about craft night as if it's the ultimate in hip adult entertainment. I actually like a number of crafts and think it might be fun to work with someone else on them, but I don't think crafting is one of those activities you should expect others to join you in: OK, you might somehow like mowing the lawn, but you don't invite your friends over for a gardening evening. If they volunteer that's a different matter, but you don't ask.
The real kicker is that this guy keeps promising the craft night--has been for a year--but he consistently fails to deliver, puts craft night on the calendar, then backs out everytime craft night approaches. I have begun to realize that he's really just a craft-tease, and probably doesn't even own a pot of glue or a decent pair of scissors.
I'm all for helping at a good old fashioned craft-barn raising, that's just good neighboring. But anything beyond that is madness. And do you really want to mix madness and glue?
Craft-tease. There's a store name in there Holly.
I have heard of this craft thing before. In fact, I took a long time to try and be funny about it here a long time ago.
Post a Comment