long ago, back in the early 1990s, my mother enrolled me in a summer ceramics class. a couple of times a week, i’d go and pick out a piece, paint and shellac it, then bring it home. one on occasion, i decided to try a turtle. he was cheap and interesting and possibly more realistic looking than the ceramic cats i’d painted previously.
he’s far from perfect, but he turned out pretty well at the hand of an 11-year old. the other kids were content to slop paint around on the table and each other. i was creating Art. or at the very least putting some thought into where i slopped the paint.
i couldn’t tell you where i’ve stored him, but he’s still in my possession and remains my favourite piece of creative expression.