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Instructions
There’s a lot of things out there that come with instructions these days. Car seats, soup cans, shampoo bottles…beer bottles. Usually these instructions come in quite handy. Except when you mix them up and twist off your car seat knobs and add a can of water to your shampoo then heat it over medium for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. I hate when that happens, but at least I don’t have to work too hard at cleaning the pan. No, I just made that up. I don’t even have a car seat. But I do have a car that I drove to the art store the other day. I bought paints, brushes and paper. It’s been a long time since I painted. So long I bet no one even calls it painting anymore. I’m sure it has a new name now like pigment-liquiding or color-expressing. I got all set up to pigment-express myself but there were no instructions on the back of my paint tubes. Or my brushes. How can I make art—if that’s what they even call it nowadays—if there’s no instructions how to make happy little trees and Mona Lisa smiles? The toothpaste tells me how to brush. The door at the liquor store tells me how to open it. The envelopes in my mailbox from the IRS say “Open Immediately. This is Your Final Warning.” This must be some sort of oversight by the manufacturers. Hopefully it gets rectified soon so I can paint like the masters. I wonder if the masters lathered, rinsed and repeated with soup sometimes.
There’s a lot of things out there that come with instructions these days. Car seats, soup cans, shampoo bottles…beer bottles. Usually these instructions come in quite handy. Except when you mix them up and twist off your car seat knobs and add a can of water to your shampoo then heat it over medium for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. I hate when that happens, but at least I don’t have to work too hard at cleaning the pan. No, I just made that up. I don’t even have a car seat. But I do have a car that I drove to the art store the other day. I bought paints, brushes and paper. It’s been a long time since I painted. So long I bet no one even calls it painting anymore. I’m sure it has a new name now like pigment-liquiding or color-expressing. I got all set up to pigment-express myself but there were no instructions on the back of my paint tubes. Or my brushes. How can I make art—if that’s what they even call it nowadays—if there’s no instructions how to make happy little trees and Mona Lisa smiles? The toothpaste tells me how to brush. The door at the liquor store tells me how to open it. The envelopes in my mailbox from the IRS say “Open Immediately. This is Your Final Warning.” This must be some sort of oversight by the manufacturers. Hopefully it gets rectified soon so I can paint like the masters. I wonder if the masters lathered, rinsed and repeated with soup sometimes.
