decent lamp is an indispensable property, especially when its necessity is accentuated by inadequate room conditions. Due to a lack of planning during construction, our studio had windows that faced west instead of north. The problem with our westward facing windows was a lack of stable natural light during the day. So to compensate for that, The Owl installed two layers of thick black curtains, a low cost correction, also one that caused us great agony during the summer when the dark curtains occasionally cooked our room to a suffocating temperature. Aside from these unintended deficiencies, the room was well suited for drawing in every other respect. In the southeast corner of the studio there was a collection of clay vessels for drawing practices. They came in all shapes and sizes, some slightly more interesting than the others. The purpose of drawing these dull and uninspiring vessels was a bit unclear to me at that time. However many years later, at a life drawing class I took in downtown Toronto, I encountered a diagram of the female body simplified as a water vessel. Only then did I realize that the shape of those vessels we drew in the studio were in perfect synchrony with the curvatures of the female body. How subtly and ingeniously did The Owl exhibit the sensual beauty in the body of the opposite sex without exposing to us the nervous flesh of a nude model. Human bodies weren’t the only things that were barred from the studio. For a long time, we kept any organic or living things away as well. In just a few days, the over‐heated room would turn bananas into little sticks, oranges into green puffballs, and eggs into the most lethal stink bombs one could ever imagine. The metamorphosis that took place around us in the studio could be quite extraordinary. Like The Owl said, “Thou shalt not bring any living things to the studio except thyself!” Upon the realization of this simple law
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First-Year Writing 2010