Red makes art sometimes.  And sometimes, it doesn't suck.

30th March 2011

Photo with 8 notes

First of the 2002-ish items.  No digitizing, here; I’m posting it for posterity.
There was a girl I went to school with who had really severe Cerebral Palsy: walked slowly, rotated her hips awkwardly; one arm usually held at a strange angle, difficult to understand. She was smart, but her inability to speak clearly left me self-conscious and uncomfortable whenever she tried to talk to me.  I felt awful about it.  
(Aside: I was one of those individuals who other people wanted to be acknowledged by at the same time they were a little scared of me.  I don’t know how I achieved this status, since I was pretty unsocial and uninvolved.  I didn’t go out of my way to hurt people’s feelings, though, and I knew Lindsey was a sweet, smart girl, so when I say I felt really awful about not being able to understand what she was trying to say, I’m serious.  She probably felt a little nervous about talking to me, too, and I don’t think I handled it well at all.)
She wasn’t the only student at the school with mobility problems, and Mr. R, one of the art teachers, was a kind of champion to these people.  One day, in class, he made us do an exercise where we held our pencils with parts of our body that weren’t our hands, and had us draw simple objects.  I drew my disposable coffee cup — the above image.
It definitely inspired a new sense of respect for the people who do art when they can’t fully control their extremities.  I feel inept and incapable of fine motor control, and I don’t have much in the way of health problems.

First of the 2002-ish items.  No digitizing, here; I’m posting it for posterity.

There was a girl I went to school with who had really severe Cerebral Palsy: walked slowly, rotated her hips awkwardly; one arm usually held at a strange angle, difficult to understand. She was smart, but her inability to speak clearly left me self-conscious and uncomfortable whenever she tried to talk to me.  I felt awful about it.  

(Aside: I was one of those individuals who other people wanted to be acknowledged by at the same time they were a little scared of me.  I don’t know how I achieved this status, since I was pretty unsocial and uninvolved.  I didn’t go out of my way to hurt people’s feelings, though, and I knew Lindsey was a sweet, smart girl, so when I say I felt really awful about not being able to understand what she was trying to say, I’m serious.  She probably felt a little nervous about talking to me, too, and I don’t think I handled it well at all.)

She wasn’t the only student at the school with mobility problems, and Mr. R, one of the art teachers, was a kind of champion to these people.  One day, in class, he made us do an exercise where we held our pencils with parts of our body that weren’t our hands, and had us draw simple objects.  I drew my disposable coffee cup — the above image.

It definitely inspired a new sense of respect for the people who do art when they can’t fully control their extremities.  I feel inept and incapable of fine motor control, and I don’t have much in the way of health problems.

Tagged: 2002Miscellaneadiatribe

  1. darkitydarkarts posted this