The art teacher instructed me to instruct the class and clonked off in his misfitting shoes to his other class. As long as I have the instruction to be in charge, I have no problem doing so. One of my favorite things to do is to warm up a class, by refusing to be awkward. I mean, it's probably pretty awkward if a naked person is standing in the front of an auditorium, telling you what to do. It just makes me laugh. I love that I can slip into a persona of being completely comfortable in my own skin and asking them questions. Our dialogue was minimal but pleasant. They all asked for long poses, which are fine but more difficult than short ones.
I love the sound of their pencils scribbling on paper, and their scrunched up faces when they hold their pencils and measuring sticks up to approximate my proportions. It's especially funny when the teacher comes back and goes around correcting their mistakes or making observations on their sketches. He'll say things like, "yes, but her calf isn't that long" or "but you've left absolutely no place in between her chest and hip for her stomach. You need space for the stomach" or the best ever, "you've made her look so manly." I've even heard, "this is catastrophic, but maybe you could..." I am so easily amused by these remarks. Ping. Pong. Ping. Pong.
I don't think too much about being naked. But sometimes it occurs to me that I am, and that the others are not. It's fun to imagine how odd it would be if all of them were sitting there naked as well. It's a bit absurd to think how much clothing we wear. (Of course, I understand the purpose of clothing. I'd never never the building naked; I mean, it's Scandinavia we're talking about.) But still, it's an interesting development of our culture.
On the wall of the changing room at the other school I work for is a lovely little quote by Oscar Wilde that reads:
"If man were meant to be nude, he would have been born that way. "
Maybe I just have the courage to stand in my birthday suit or something, but I don't know if all of those people could have done the same. I feel like human society has piled up so much bullshit that we think it's weird to be naked. Actually, it's fabulous. And I get paid for it. HA my job is awesome! I get paid to sit/ stand/ lay around naked and in those 3-4 hour sessions, I have all the time in the world to think about whatever I want. I donate those moments to my imagination, and lately I've been coming up with some new stories! Yesterday I came up with a new one called, "The Zebra that Fell in Love with the Moon." It's a continuation of my Hot Air Balloon vision that I had at the other art school. After coming home and drawing the hot air balloon, I put a zebra into the picture, maybe because I was a zebra for halloween and it was me looking at the balloon. I finished the drawing, but had no story for it, so yesterday I set my mind to work while reclining on the floor at Konstfack, and tried to find a reason for this zebra to be staring over the clouds. (Naturally, he was in love with the moon and went to go tell her how he felt... this story will appear under "word" soon.) Oh right, still laying on the floor naked...Scribble. Scratch. Scrunch. Ping. Pong. Ping. Pong.
I had noticed that some students took pictures of their drawings with their iphones during the breaks, and since I don't have a smartphone myself I don't really know how the whole hashtagging thing works. But I figured I'd check up on it when I got home, and so I typed #konstfack into instagram and there INSTANTLY popped up a drawing of me laying on the floor, posted 2 hours after I'd done that pose. Insane. I don't think I've realized the power of the internet until last night's find.
After finding a drawing of myself online, I received a letter from the Swedish tax office, Skatteverket and YES! I am now officially a Swedish Tax-payer! It's not exactly a social-security number, but close enough. At least all the work I do here is legally taxed and going into the right place. Hopefully if I live here long enough, or find more stable work, I can get the personnummer. I feel like I'm living out my dreams right now. Instead of just complaining about my tax money going to a bad cause, and continuing to support the US government, I made the change, left the country and now pay my taxes elsewhere. Even if I don't benefit from that tax-money yet (since I don't have the social security number, I'm not eligible to receive Sweden's healthcare or other social benefits) I still feel a deeper connection to the place. It actually doesn't make a difference, because I'm not eligible for any benefits in the US either, being that I'm not a citizen. So I win in this case too.
To celebrate all the good things in life, I took off my jacket while waiting for the metro and soaked up 10 minutes of sun to my bare skin, and though it was a mere 9°C (48.2°F) I didn't even break into goosebumps or chills. Amazing, how quickly and determinedly I've adapted to the climate. Now that we've brilliantly set our clocks back an hour, the light is really disappearing fast. I'd way rather have a later sunset than an earlier sunrise, but there's nothing I can do to change that. The sun set at 3:54 today, but I'm in chipper spirits.
Life is good! I went out and bought myself a beautiful purple candle and a glass jar for my müsli (I have always wanted one like this!) I feel like nothing can bring me down right now. I'm pinging and ponging back and forth from one good thing to the next, and even though I land a few times, I'm mostly flying on nice arcs and avoiding the net.
Oh and on another note... I managed to propagate some rosemary and grow new roots from this clipping. Green thumb in November. Toppen!
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