MaryM

In those first days of living on Winfield Street in Bernal Heights, San Francisco and starting a pottery shop, MaryT my first room mate had moved out. I believe my next room mate was MaryM. The unfortunate thing is that in the next few years so much happened that it is difficult if not impossible for me to get the proper order of it all. I can remember many events but much of it is a blank. It seems the order of things is a problem. So I can only do the best I can.

I met MaryM at the Art Institute on a Saturday afternoon in painting class. I remember I was acting like an idiot, wadding toilet paper in paint and throwing it at the canvas like something from the movies. I think I was frustrated because they didn't teach technique. What was said was that you were already suppose to have learned technique and they did not deign to stoop to such mundane endeavor apparently. Of course since they were somewhat known to have a terrible painting department, it might seem that there might be some room for fundamentals. However it was an expensive school, so would imagine they had to have the appearance of offering something more than such banal affairs as technique, as might be the offering of the common run of the mill art program. However what that something-more was eluded me.

Which reminds me of probably the most interesting single class session I had at the Art Institute, which was an evening drawing class. This particular class was crowded - mostly all men, having about twice as many people there than usual.

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