Blood, Sweat, Tears, and Paint

The night of the show I thought I would miss, The band's tour manager called me at work.

"This is Sundry with The Red Paintings, were you still interested in helping out?"

"What time would you like me to be there?"

"The band starts at ten, but we'd like you here around seven"

"I'm not off work till nine, I can get there by nine twenty-five."

"See you then, wear a black bra and black pants please."

I asked Sharon if I could close shop early, she adores me and when I told her what I was doing, she permitted.

I was to be the human canvas, stage right.

I rushed to the venue directly from work and arrived at 9:57 (the band was set to play at 10:15),

handed my glasses to my pod, Thomas, and ran to the bouncer. The following is a transcript of

the single coolest thing that’s happened to me in the ten months I’ve been 21 years of age.

Me: Hi I didn’t ask on the phone, but I’m part of the show, do I still pay cover?

Bouncer: What’s your name?

Me: Hand.

Bouncer: Oh yeah, you’re on the list, go in. (stamps my wrist)

Yes, the exalted status of “on the list”.

I ran to the merch booth and spoke with whom I assumed to

be the band’s manager, who directed me to the bathroom to

“get painted up and put on your mermaid tail”. I went into

the makeshift dressing room, took off my shirt and two

beautiful women proceeded to smear grey tempera paint

over my above-the-belt regions. I then did my best to

wriggle my way into a pair of boxer briefs with a four foot

pillow in the shape of a mermaid tail extending from the

pelvis. They then strapped a chest piece onto my neck which was to represent intestines, then

was given a ghostly white mask with equally creepy hair protruding from the sides.

Connie, my painter, led me on stage where I stood silent and waited for the band to start. When

they did, I moved my body with the music, and

watched members of the audience stare

enthralled at the mass amounts of action on

stage.

There was a man from nor cal directly behind me

who painted seven flat canvases in the course of

the 45 minute set, who according to eyewitness accounts was an absolute hurricane. At one point

he held a canvas portraying a strat, held it up to

his midriff, and with paintbrushes in hand,

mimicked the guitarists' movements. Leaving a

wake of multicolored expression across the

strings.

There was Sundry who was from Australia and touring with

the band who painted one very surreal portrait of Trash

(singer/guitarist) back stage left. There was a gentleman

painting on a human canvas named Roxy an array of

different animal hides on each different limb of her body,

scales here, zebra there, cheetah there. And front stage right

there was Connie and I. My artist does not use brushes, but

instead made impressionistic smears and globs on my skin

using at intervals a CD, a drink coaster from the bar, and

either end of a plastic spoon.

On top of all this excitement there are a band of musicians on stage, who are dressed somewhere

between being aliens and kabuki actors (varying levels at each end among the five of them).

After the show, the eleven of us exit the stage