I wanted
to be sick.
Oh the horror! I have
inadvertently used shit (or something equally repugnant) to create my latest
component. I am very upset about
this. It was an utterly disgusting realisation to
make...
Everything had been going so well. I scoopled up a bag of earth to myself one
afternoon at work, feeling very pleased not just because I had got me some
earth with no trouble at all but also because it was from the very same
vicinity as I had gathered my rootish things about four years ago with Natalie– this was too good to be true!
Later on I laid it out on my windowsill
at home to dry. On a plastic bag, of
course.
Days passed and the earth dried in lumps to its basic grey
matte finish and I was excited about mixing a few more ingredients in before
coating the hog hillock in the fruits of this labour. I did the mixing in two portions, mostly
because my guesstimation skills can sometimes be a bit off and I didn't want to
be short on mixture. The first batch was
a delight! The gold powder and other
colourings combined with the earth were a treat to behold when I dried out a
tiny practice bit; it cracked up a treat and sparkled with a dirty yellow
brilliance. I breathed in its earthiness
(a lovely fragrance usually, and this was no exception) mixed with art
ingredients (one of my actual favourite smells).
And so I mixed up the second lot, fishing out any stones I
deemed to be too big as I went, same ingredients, same final look. Perhaps a little darker but I was ok with
that – everything else is quite light in tone and I feel a nice dark grounding
colour is just fine. I poured the first
batch into the second and mixed it.
And...something wasn’t right. The smell was
kind of...off. It was a mildly vomitous waft at this stage but I thought
nothing more of it and put the lid on my container of shit, I mean hillock mud,
and left the room for the day.
And then Christmas came.
Which meant that I had to pose with various yellow things. And family members.
So the pot was left on my desk in the room just doing its
thang for a while...
Three days ago I picked up one of my art knives. I think it originally belonged to my grandma,
but I’ve had it for years and I’m pretty sure it is mine now as I am almost certain
there is no need for knives in heaven.
I
was to use this to do the pasting.
And thus I did. Behold the results.
The dried and cracked and near perfect results.
But oh! If you could only feast your nostrils upon it!
At first I was hopeful that the smell would go as the mud dried. So I closeted the hillock in the room. And I kept on hoping...
Then I wondered if encasing it in some matt varnish might work, but the look of that wasn't ideal.
So I SLATHERED the stinking beast in a can of extra firm hold fragrance free hairspray. That worked a little bit, but I knew in my heart that I would never, ever be able to touch it without gloves. And I couldn't inflict the stench or the knowledge of shit upon my hogs.
And so, after a phone conversation with my mother and several curses placed upon cats, the hillock was bagged up and thrown away. I salvaged the bones though and they are currently soaking in a bleach solution.
I just feel so dirty.