The Inept Malcontent
On the weekend I conducted a contemporary-watercolour workshop for twelve middle-aged women. This will absolutely be one of my last classes ever. These enterprises have become less and less enjoyable over the years. One goes through all the demonstrations, like a performing monkey, under the glazed eyes of the dull audience, who have each paid for the privilege of ignoring one's advice, and who couldn't aspire to follow the demonstrations even if they did possess a modicum of talent or aesthetic understanding. For the most part, they wander back to their work-tables and ignore everything that has just been shown to them, content to paddle about aimlessly with the coloured mud on their sodden paper. It is no more than an outing for them, after all - an entertaining day of: 'Just having a bit of fun with paint'. All very well, one may say - but, in which case, get yourselves another clown to cavort for you. Over the decades I...