CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: I DREW A PAPAYA
The whole class was quiet. We were all looking at a papaya and some guavas.
Prof. Trelawney brought a huge papaya and some guavas to class. I thought she was going to cut them for us to eat, but then I thought she wouldn’t be that nice. Just as I had thought, she wasn’t going let us eat them; she was going to let us draw them.
First she laid a huge cloth on the table and put the papaya on it, then she put the guavas in front of it. She then walked to the back of the class and stared at the papaya. After looking at the papaya, she looked at the guavas. Finally she took the guavas one by one, thought for a long, long time, and then put them at either sides of the papaya.
Every time during Art class, Prof. Trelawney would do something weird. Just like last week, she told us to listen to a song and draw out how we feel about the song. So I tried drawing what I felt, but in the end I didn’t draw anything because I felt nothing. Bloody hell, was I pissed! I had been listening hard. I couldn’t help it if I couldn’t feel anything. Harry Scarface was better than me. He had felt something, and what he felt was three long lines.
Today, it could be easy using papaya and guavas. I’ve eaten both of them before, and I know papayas have seeds.
“For this period we are going to do still portraits sketching,” Prof. Trelawney said as she pointed at the fruits on the table, “Everyone observe those fruits and watch clearly at the big and small of it, then draft them out.”
Everyone picked up their pencils and used their hands to point here and there before started drawing. I followed whatever they’re doing: hold up my hand straight and closed my eyes. But when I closed my eyes I couldn’t see anything. I opened my eyes and realized I only had to close one eye.
I then drew one, two, three circles. The big circle would be the papaya and the two smaller ones are the guavas.
I like Art class the most, because Prof. Trelawney would never put an X on my drawing paper. Everything to her was right.
Prof. Trelawney walked towards me and looked at my circles. I awkwardly erased the big circle and drew an even bigger one. Prof. Trelawney treats me very nice. She would never scold me. So I drew her a bigger one.
“Ronald, let me teach you something. Try colouring the circle with your pencil.”
So I did, making the whole circle black.
Prof. Trelawney smiled and asked, “See? When you coloured with your pencil, what happens?”
I replied quietly, “My pencil will break.”
She shook her head, “No, Ronald. When you filled in you circle, it’ll look much better, won’t it? This is called sketching.”
So I learned about ‘sketching’. Once I get home, I would draw a lot of circles and colour them black. Prof. Trelawney is really smart. Once she started teaching, I understood right away.
Prof. Trelawney patted my head and said, “Ronald, it’s alright if you’re not smart at languages or science, but you could be an art prodigy. Last month I went to an art exhibition and saw pictures done by people mentally disabled like you. Their drawings are so bold and so full of life. Many of those with mental disabilities often have hidden art talents, you know.”
So I kept colouring the circles to make her happy. Although I didn’t understand what she was saying, but she didn’t sound like she was scolding me.
But then suddenly, Prof. Trelawney held my hand, “Stop, stop. Don’t colour it anymore. You’re going to make it too black. Now, squint your eyes a little and look,” she said as she pointed at the papaya, “do you see a part of the papaya a bit brighter?”
I squinted real hard until I almost couldn’t see. I kept thinking, how could the papaya be bright? It’s not like it’s a light bulb or anything. But since Prof. Trelawney was so nice, I nodded and said the papaya was bright.
Prof. Trelawney shook her head, “You don’t seem to have any art talent. That’s weird. Maybe it just needs time to be discovered.”
As she left me she said, “Draw boldly, boy!”
But I didn’t know what ‘draw boldly’ meant.
I asked Harry Scarface about it and he said, “Just draw rubbish.”
How can I draw rubbish when Prof. Trelawney treats me so nice? Harry Scarface talks rubbish.
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