Art Attack

Yesterday’s corner time: 3 Minutes.

I consider myself to be a talented artist.

I excel at surrealism and I dabble in the abstract. I’ve tried cubism but I struggled to even draw a square, so a three dimensional object was completely beyond me.

I then moved onto impressionism but I was no good at impressions. According to Dad, the only person that I resemble is Mussolini. I assume that he’s a famous Italian artist.

I’m now in my Abstract Surrealism period and my colour is red. I use Becca as my canvas. I enjoy covering her with glue and sticking cotton wool to her head.

By the time I’m finished, she generally resembles a sheep or a cloud. I’m not sure which but that’s the good thing about Abstract Surrealism.

My parents always attempt to be positive about my artwork, complimenting me on my wide and varied use of red. However, I think they may be concerned that this represents internalized anger.

I plan to start telling them that the red signifies the blood of my victims - that should get them really worried about my psychological state.

Yesterday, I was at the kitchen table with my Art Kit and a blank Becca in front of me, about to create another cloud or sheep when in wandered Dad. He asked if I was waiting for inspiration to strike.

Well, after that I just couldn’t concentrate. I had to keep looking over my shoulder to ensure that inspiration wasn’t sneaking up behind me.

Apparently, it could hit me at anytime.

Matthew.

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