Apparently my roommate is disturbed by this picture as I have found it turned around on our mantel. I think I will do the polite thing and try to sell it. I will also do the impolite thing and use the money to paint something larger and more disturbing. Perhaps a picture of my eight year old self?
Displaying art and living with roommates is often challenging. Not everyone appreciates my taste, so I try and keep in mind that I am living in a shared space. But often times I forget....
For example, last Christmas I won a Justin Bieber calendar in a gift exchange. In a fit of excitement, I placed the pictures around the house: Bieber in the bookshelf. Bieber above the sink. Hey, Bieber is watching you pee!
My fantasies of twelve year old boys hanging around my house were fulfilled until I went on vacation. When I returned, the walls were bare. Apparently my roommates did not share in my fantasy. I then concluded that Bieber fever is not contagious and would have to limit Bieber to my bedroom.
In college, I lived with a medical major for quite some time. When she was not having a blinking contest with her textbook (she always won), she preferred to stare at a white wall. She claimed to have an allergy to bright colors. Epilepsy perhaps? We both knew she just wasn't very fond of my art.
One day, I decided to paint a mural on a wall. I was so inspired in the moment that I did not do the respectful thing and ask her first. When she got home and saw the mural, she looked at me like I had just salted a slug that she had just announced was her Great Aunt Bertha reincarnated. (slugs=theme of the week)
If that doesn't make sense try this: She looked at me like I had killed a baby. This look was also the face she used to express joy, so I am not sure how she really felt, but I assumed the former. (just kidding. If you are reading, I will buy you a fancy cocktail next time I see you<3)
I was upset in the moment, but she did tolerate my sketches of naked-overweight-middle-age-men that graced our shared bedroom wall (from my anatomy drawing class in case you were wondering). This wall also housed pictures of cows from my gluttony project as well.
To me the pictures provided comic relief to a stressful course load, but experience has taught me that people don't always share in my humor. Maybe I should just stick to neutral subject matter. Maybe I should paint pictures of flowers. But then I think about Georgia O'Keeffee. She tried to remain neutral, but everyone just called her a pervert. Sometimes you can't win.
In conclusion, if I ever live on my own, I plan on doing a Justin Beiber-duck mural on my wall. It will be huge and take up the whole house. The fact that I am convinced every house I live in is haunted, every sound of the ice maker is a serial killer, and generally like having people around makes me pretty sure I will never live on my own. This mural will probably never exist.
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