So there I was, excitedly and nervously awaiting the
arrival of my new model, a 23 yr. old, 5'3" blonde with the taught,
killer bod, when the phone rang. After my last newsletter bemoaning the
patent unreliability of the local model scene, you may now be wondering
aloud if another cancellation might be imminent. Nope. Not this
time. She was just calling to say she was lost and needed a few concise
directions to locate my pad. Even still, she managed to arrive on
time. So far, soooo good.
After a perfunctory introduction
to Mr. Suave himself, we retire to my second story studio, as I prep her
to the grand and noble purpose of my mission, as well as unveil for her
the many completed and half-completed canvas's that align yon studio
walls. The rows of my color-coded pastels were all in place and the
huge pastel board, which I put together myself to accommodate large size
drawings, was ready for engagement. The girl took her pose with the
natural light of my studio window as the only illumination--a pose that
reflected her years of dance and ballet training-- as I began mapping
out her proportions with a dark red pastel.
Within a half
hour, I'm almost embarrassed to report, the piece was practically
done. Sure, I screwed up the head once, and had to re-do it, but that
was about it. Once the light and shadow tones were blocked in, and the
light blue background applied, it practically painted itself, as
artist's are known to remark. And unlike most models, this girl seemed
genuinely interested in what I had produced. I even fixed her nose for
no extra charge.
After she departed, I picked at it some
more, managed to screw up the face a few more times, those damn half
smiles always confound me, and realized it wasn't as great as I thought
it was.
NEXT--
Will the
intrepid, rigidly-determined Dude succeed in correcting this common and
reoccurring glitch, or will he succumb to his baser shortcomings and
throw the covers over his head?
Mail in your comments to Will the Dude survive?
c/o this newsletter!