Kambing Sasat.
I decided with much trepidation to make a frame to support my next submission, a drawing/collage. In true Widarchitect stylee I decided oh no, I wasn't going to do an Ikea £2.50 jobby oh no. Not me. Heck, if I'm going to make a frame, I'm putting all the bells and whistles on.
Whats the big deal, you say? Its not so much the 'technical skill' or materials I might need because any monkey with both (or limited amounts of both) can fashion some form of frame. Four sides and bob's your uncle. But its not that. Its where you do it.
Now if you remember this post where I ask where the workshop is you'll remember the trouble I had getting to it. That was the first of my worries. The rest came today when I finally ventured in.
The workshop in my old uni was equally as difficult to find. Perhaps as a deterrant for future sacrifical lambs who might stray into the foggy, noisy, scarey den that is the workshop only to face the carcinogen induced convulsions followed by the ritual skinning and mass ridicule. Though, once in, and versed in the rules of the workshop the lamb begins to shed its doe eyed naivity which eventually peels away to reveal its slick, quick, savvy undercoat worthy of true blue workshopman(mutton)ship.
The process is long and arduous requiring patience and poise though fruitful in time. By the end of it the lamb is welcomed within the workshop, brought in to join the banter and the best of all, is able to graze and produce in the limitless realm of. Model making.
So returned once again to grade lamb, I venture into the workshop for the first time today making little eye contact with the veterans already there drilling and milling away. Lauren, a girl I used to go to school with calls my name and I tread carefully into the inner circle. We chat for a little bit and make small talk and eventually I slink away and take my perch on the far side of the workshop. Rookie mistake numero uno.
I quickly discover that the flatbed saw is a no-go ground as students ask the technician to cut their pieces of wood. AAAaallll the way on the other side of the workshop. I make a few trips to and fro and eventually pluck up the courage to ask Mr.Technician if he would so kindly cut four pieces for me.
Me: hi, do you mind cutting this for me?
Mr.T: oh no. you aren't going to ask me to do something are you? (in sarky drawling manner)
Me: aah. *nervous giggle/e-heh sound* just this little piece please...
Mr.T: right. (pulls face) how many how long.
Me: oh I've marked it out for you..here. (smile?)
Mr.T: you haven't made room for the cutting bit. that's 600 then. sigh.
Me: um. yea. ok. (as he walks away leaving me talking to myself)
So yes, good first impression I've made there. Mr.T, one. Lamb, minus one. Mr.T, satu. Kambing, kosong.
Eventually things start rolling and there are two more encounters not unlike the one just mentioned probably both rating a 4/5 in embarassment factors, but things start moving a little quicker. It comes to 1pm and he tells me to get lost. Que doe eyed oh-please-don't-hurt-me look. Its lunch time, get lost. So I did.
I hide in the library away from the lunch eating crowd and mull in my embarassment. Cursing the guy sat opposite me who is whispering to the girl next to him in what can only be described as a stage whisper. I'm here to sulk. Let me sulk in peace.
Determined to eleveate my now less-than-lamb status, I approach the after lunch session with a little gung ho. Quickly finish off the last pieces I need like a pro. Now to put it all together. Ah. After much floundering with glue and several types of nail, hammers and recutting damaged pieces Mr.T walks past with a very audible tut tut. Realise that am simply lamb in wolves clothing.
5 o'clock arrives and I'm told to get lost again and scamper out with my sorry excuse for a frame with no bells and a broken whistle. Breathe a sigh of relief that I am out of the slaughter house and back on the pavement. I scan my phone again in hopes that Dengku will text me so that we can meet for break fast but alas, computer says no.
Home again and Mr.M is inspecting Kyle's work:
Inspection
... He decides he doesn't want to bother looking at my screen and walks past it. I have been rejected by my cat.
Its 2.20 and even though tomorrow is already today. In my book it hasn't started yet. So away this curried lamb goes to bed. And to all a good night. xxw
Whats the big deal, you say? Its not so much the 'technical skill' or materials I might need because any monkey with both (or limited amounts of both) can fashion some form of frame. Four sides and bob's your uncle. But its not that. Its where you do it.
Now if you remember this post where I ask where the workshop is you'll remember the trouble I had getting to it. That was the first of my worries. The rest came today when I finally ventured in.
The workshop in my old uni was equally as difficult to find. Perhaps as a deterrant for future sacrifical lambs who might stray into the foggy, noisy, scarey den that is the workshop only to face the carcinogen induced convulsions followed by the ritual skinning and mass ridicule. Though, once in, and versed in the rules of the workshop the lamb begins to shed its doe eyed naivity which eventually peels away to reveal its slick, quick, savvy undercoat worthy of true blue workshopman(mutton)ship.
The process is long and arduous requiring patience and poise though fruitful in time. By the end of it the lamb is welcomed within the workshop, brought in to join the banter and the best of all, is able to graze and produce in the limitless realm of. Model making.
So returned once again to grade lamb, I venture into the workshop for the first time today making little eye contact with the veterans already there drilling and milling away. Lauren, a girl I used to go to school with calls my name and I tread carefully into the inner circle. We chat for a little bit and make small talk and eventually I slink away and take my perch on the far side of the workshop. Rookie mistake numero uno.
I quickly discover that the flatbed saw is a no-go ground as students ask the technician to cut their pieces of wood. AAAaallll the way on the other side of the workshop. I make a few trips to and fro and eventually pluck up the courage to ask Mr.Technician if he would so kindly cut four pieces for me.
Me: hi, do you mind cutting this for me?
Mr.T: oh no. you aren't going to ask me to do something are you? (in sarky drawling manner)
Me: aah. *nervous giggle/e-heh sound* just this little piece please...
Mr.T: right. (pulls face) how many how long.
Me: oh I've marked it out for you..here. (smile?)
Mr.T: you haven't made room for the cutting bit. that's 600 then. sigh.
Me: um. yea. ok. (as he walks away leaving me talking to myself)
So yes, good first impression I've made there. Mr.T, one. Lamb, minus one. Mr.T, satu. Kambing, kosong.
Eventually things start rolling and there are two more encounters not unlike the one just mentioned probably both rating a 4/5 in embarassment factors, but things start moving a little quicker. It comes to 1pm and he tells me to get lost. Que doe eyed oh-please-don't-hurt-me look. Its lunch time, get lost. So I did.
I hide in the library away from the lunch eating crowd and mull in my embarassment. Cursing the guy sat opposite me who is whispering to the girl next to him in what can only be described as a stage whisper. I'm here to sulk. Let me sulk in peace.
Determined to eleveate my now less-than-lamb status, I approach the after lunch session with a little gung ho. Quickly finish off the last pieces I need like a pro. Now to put it all together. Ah. After much floundering with glue and several types of nail, hammers and recutting damaged pieces Mr.T walks past with a very audible tut tut. Realise that am simply lamb in wolves clothing.
5 o'clock arrives and I'm told to get lost again and scamper out with my sorry excuse for a frame with no bells and a broken whistle. Breathe a sigh of relief that I am out of the slaughter house and back on the pavement. I scan my phone again in hopes that Dengku will text me so that we can meet for break fast but alas, computer says no.
Home again and Mr.M is inspecting Kyle's work:
Inspection
... He decides he doesn't want to bother looking at my screen and walks past it. I have been rejected by my cat.
Its 2.20 and even though tomorrow is already today. In my book it hasn't started yet. So away this curried lamb goes to bed. And to all a good night. xxw
posted by Widarchitect at 1:25 am
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