February and March: Sunday in the sitting room with art
It’s Sunday afternoon, school looms large. The fun of Friday Championship Manager and chips is over. Pizza Saturday and late-night Match of the Day is gone. Sunday league in the park is over. Sunday afternoon is here. Sunday afternoon means homework. Homework means procrastination. Procrastination means I’ll be at this desk until bed. I may as well be at school. The biggest bane of my existence is art homework. Try as I might I can't seem to do it. In English the pen sits fluently in my hand. I dance across the page with it. We’re in symbiosis with one another, quick-stepping to the maximum word-count in no time at all. However, a pencil is different. It doesn’t seem to fit when we’re in hold. We appear to be working against one another, leading the other astray. The end result is a mess that’s sure to achieve derision from my teacher. And it doesn’t matter what the discipline is, each piece is dreadful in its own way. My still life is not a mirror image, rather a cloning exper...