When my sister was a little kid she used to like to draw Indians.
The drawings were so bad that they were good.
I can still remember my sister coming home from school proudly holding one of her stick drawing Indian creations to show my mother.
My mother burst out laughing and my poor sister burst out crying.
However, her drawings, alone, got the dubious award as to be hung up on the refrigerator for display.
In college, my sister wrote short stories the same way as she drew.
They were so bad that they were classic. In her, now, infamous college essay short story "the joy of shower curtains" (we still crack up about it) she describes the character crying by writing, "her lacrimal glands spilled out on her epidermis...".
Today, after many years working on her wrtiing style, she has presented herself as a very talented writer. She writes stories similar to Candace Bushnell. (Sex and the City) She knows how to lure you in and make you want to read more and more.
Unfortunately, her Indian drawings never improved.
However.
I told her she could become rich by her infamous Indian drawings. Just take a look at the "life is good" t-shirt popularity. Those drawings are these lame stick figure drawings not unlike my sister's Indian drawings.
When my sister lived in London we decided to visit the Tate Modern museum of art.
There was one 'special presentation" there that we both looked at each and simultaneously said, "oh my God...it's the (grade school) Indian drawing!"
There was this stick figure drawing done with crayon hung up in this world famous museum!
Yes, she still has a chance of making it as a artist.
* I will have to show her this blog.
The drawings were so bad that they were good.
I can still remember my sister coming home from school proudly holding one of her stick drawing Indian creations to show my mother.
My mother burst out laughing and my poor sister burst out crying.
However, her drawings, alone, got the dubious award as to be hung up on the refrigerator for display.
In college, my sister wrote short stories the same way as she drew.
They were so bad that they were classic. In her, now, infamous college essay short story "the joy of shower curtains" (we still crack up about it) she describes the character crying by writing, "her lacrimal glands spilled out on her epidermis...".
Today, after many years working on her wrtiing style, she has presented herself as a very talented writer. She writes stories similar to Candace Bushnell. (Sex and the City) She knows how to lure you in and make you want to read more and more.
Unfortunately, her Indian drawings never improved.
However.
I told her she could become rich by her infamous Indian drawings. Just take a look at the "life is good" t-shirt popularity. Those drawings are these lame stick figure drawings not unlike my sister's Indian drawings.
When my sister lived in London we decided to visit the Tate Modern museum of art.
There was one 'special presentation" there that we both looked at each and simultaneously said, "oh my God...it's the (grade school) Indian drawing!"
There was this stick figure drawing done with crayon hung up in this world famous museum!
Yes, she still has a chance of making it as a artist.
* I will have to show her this blog.
** the portrait above is from one of the collections from the "museum of bad Art".
Yes, such a museum does exist.
I cracked up when I read this... my sister used to write really bad poetry. So bad, it was also classic. For example: "Cross country skiing is a lot of fun being that you don't have to dress too warm, for you will soon be gone. All you really need is a sweater in this cold cold weather, when you're cross country skiing, so don't go sight seeing".... I kid you not. You only remember the classics by heart!
ReplyDeleteFox I take it your sister has a sense of humor.
ReplyDeleteYes, her poetry is pretty bad.
I'm glad my sister has a sense of humor when I tease her about her "indian" drawings and her ode to "the joy of shower curtains" essay.
ha ha watch this space!!! the worst art was the round red lamp under a bed with a guy's face projected on the lamp. it was in the tate modern. this world has lost it!!!!
ReplyDelete