Art as a Mothers Punishment
Normally my blog posts are about being a full time artist and trying to help others with what I know, but today I wanted to share a short light hearted story.
I discovered my true love of art when I was about ten or eleven years old. I would draw non stop. I was obsessed with Mad Magazine and comic strips, especially Outland and Calvin and Hobbes. I’m not sure how many of you remember them, but they were great. I’m kind of dating myself with this story I think. I also loved a cartoon called Bobby’s World. It was created and voiced by Howie Mandel. I believe it aired during Saturday morning cartoons, when they were still a thing.
My constant drawing may have been a problem, because I would even draw at school when I was supposed to be doing my classwork. I guess I thought I was special and didn’t have to do the assignments like everyone else. Not doing my work turned out to be not such a great idea.
Because I loved the Cartoon Bobby’s World so much, I created this super weird character called Bad Boy Bobby. He was a very mischievous boy and for some reason he liked to play with dynamite. I have no idea why. He also had a younger sister named Susie, a younger brother named Marvin, and an emaciated dog named Crapps. Yep, I named a dog Crapps.
I would draw Bad Boy Bobby on everything. Inside books, on worksheets, probably even on walls too. I found drawing him a heck of a lot more fun than doing boring old class work. My teacher didn’t find my hilarious cartoon character in fact hilarious.
Bad Boy Bobby’s rowdy behavior evidently rubbed off on me because, I got sent home one day with a note attached to the picture I was drawing. The note explained, as I recollect, what a distracted and lazy student I was. Needless to say my mother was none too happy, so she devised a punishment to make me stop drawing in class once and for all. (FYI this wasn’t my first time being punished)
The punishment was very simple. No spanking, no restriction. My punishment was to draw Bad Boy Bobby over and over and over until my hand hurt. She didn’t want me to be able to pick up a pencil when the punishment was through. Her rationale was that I would draw Bad Boy Bobby out of my system. For a normal kid, not a budding artist, this punishment was suitable.
So I sat down at the kitchen table appearing sad with a stack of white paper, a sharpened pencil, and I drew. I drew my little heart out. I can’t tell you exactly how long I drew, but it was at least three or four hours. With each drawing, I got just a little better at drawing him and his siblings too for that matter. I even devised shortcuts so I could draw him faster.
Little did my sweet mother realize that she was actually helping me. She forgot the golden rule. Practice makes perfect. And for an artist, practice is everything.
I’m forty-two years old and I can still draw Bad Boy Bobby Perfectly.
Heres’s a quick drawing I did of the gang. Crapps. Bad Boy Bobby, Susie, and Marvin. They definitely have a Simpson’s/ Ren and Stimpy vibe.
Until next time,
