Back to School We Go
Today I worked on a section from Dad’s boyhood - his grammar school days when an art teacher took note of his talent and passion for drawing and suggested a) he was pretty good and b) should consider applying to the Sunderland College of Art and Design. As was the case back then, conversations about when to stream students into academics or trades (or art and design) took place early. When students reached the age of eleven or twelve, teachers were already picking and choosing future doctors, carpenters, and teachers. Who the heck knows what they are going to be good at when they are twelve?
Education commentary aside, I went searching for images of early 1950s grammar schools in the UK. I did manage to find a few, but then, of course, I had to decide how to draw all those rows upon rows of kids at desks with drawing boards…
Then I had this brilliant idea that all the kids could be doing a one-point perspective drawing and I could depict that using some kind of one-point perspective drawing.
What was quickly apparent is that I need to do some remedial work here and figure out how perspective works in a classroom because none of those wonky —frog-humanoids — or their equally wonky desks are close to accurate…
All in all, it was an up-and-down kind of day. Good progress on the script front and, well, every drawing attempted is progress even if it’s only to realize, that is not going to work. (Though I kind of like the meta idea of the perspective drawings as a perspective drawing. What do you think?)
BTW - here’s a good moment to interject that for all those who are trying to put the story arc in some sort of chronological order, be patient. I rarely write a whole book in order (ok, never) but like to jump around and dive into whatever chunk of the story grabs me (or, toward the end, is most challenging… those are the bits I tend to leave until I am in a horrible staring match with the deadline).
So, yes, yesterday’s section of the narrative will ultimately fall into line somewhere after this one. Try not to get too, too twitchy - by the time we all wend our respective ways to the ultimate end of this saga, all the necessary pieces will be there in an order that makes some kind of sense.
That’s the thing, though - there are many ways to tell a story. And this one won’t end with Dad in his coffin (though, there will likely be a scene…) because though he is integral to this story, he actually isn’t writing it. Ergo, in some way or another, I’ll need to get myself to a satisfactory conclusion (obviously at some point prior to my own deathbed scene). And, my chosen endpoint will need to feel satisfying - the resolution of my deep grieving period, some new understanding about art or my father and our relationship, or, perhaps, some moment of transformation that involves my relationship with my own creative output.
Sorry. Can’t give away the ultimate ending because that part remains a mystery…