"STEGGY"

(Cheese Ball Eating Alligator, Merryscribe, 2011, Windshield Museum of Art)

Occasionally, some well meaning person will ask me the following question:

"Since you love art so much why aren't you an artist?"

My answer to this inquiry is always:

"Get serious.  I love art.  I don't love work. Creating art is hard work. Therefore,  I'm a gazer; not a do-er.  End of story."

But something has happened that has rocked my world to its very foundation.

And, as a result, that statement is no longer true.

Whenever I am asked that question in the future, I will be forced to say:

I am an artist.

A full-blown,

dyed-in-the-wool,

honest to goodness......

artist.

Let's back-track a few days:

Bob and I are driving to Dallas to begin our TOTAL TEXAS ART TOUR.

We've been sitting in our trusty Malibu long enough to petrify our lumpy backsides.

I decide to prop my feet on top of the dashboard.

Please allow me to paint a more complete picture for you:

This means that my heels are digging into the dash and my toes are scrunched up and pasted to the
windshield.

Ahhhhh!

This is what I call TOOTSIE HEAVEN!

That is, if I don't let my feet rest on the dash too long.

If I get careless and lose track of time, my legs become paralyzed within minutes.

On this occasion I remove my feet from the windshield in the nick of time.

Under normal circumstances, TOOTSIE HEAVEN is over at this point.

So I move on to counting hairy goats as we breeze by on the interstate.

But not this time.

This time I notice a distinct image on the windshield.

"What is that thing?" I ask myself.

It looks exactly like an alligator head.

An alligator head with its jaw cracked open.

An alligator head with its jaw cracked open snaring a line of cheese balls in its mouth.

I study this image in wonderment.

Naturally, I say nothing to Bob.

He already believes I'm two tacos short of a combo plate.

This will only confirm it.

I can't take my eyes off the alligator head.

Maybe I'm seeing some sort of apparition.

Or maybe a bird flew into the windshield while I was snoozing.

And its dead body left a fascinating souvenir on the exterior glass.

Who knows?

I decide to think about other things.

Like where to eat lunch.

Just then I see a huge billboard whiz by.

Chick-fil-a is three exits ahead on the interstate.

We pull off and wolf down 8, 492 fat grams in less than four minutes flat.

Returning to the Malibu, my eyes are immediately drawn to the alligator head.

"Its still there," I think to myself.

"How in the world did this happen?"

Suddenly, my brain fires up two – maybe three – wobbly cells.

OH, MY STARS!!!

I massaged my feet with peppermint oil this morning before we left the house.

My toes did this.

They smudged the glass when I scrunched them on the windshield!

It was me who created this cheese-ball-eating alligator head.

(Leave it to me to create art with food as one of the primary subjects.)

Later, I decide to throw caution to the wind, and draw Bob into my artsy world.

"Do you see anything over here on my side of the windshield?" I ask innocently.

Bob glances at the windshield.

"Sure" he says matter-of-factly. "I see an alligator head."

"Nooooooooo! You do not!" I reply in mock horror.

"Yes, I do. I definitely see an alligator head."

My heart is racing.

"Me too!  I created it!" I tell Bob enthusiastically.

"I put some oil on my feet this morning and this is the incredible result!"

Bob smiles weakly.

Then he looks at me with a vacant stare.

"Is that right?" he asks.

"Yes! Do you see the cheese balls flying into its mouth?"

"I guess they could be cheese balls," he replies hesitantly.

"Oh, they're definitely cheese balls!" I inform him.

Returning his gaze to the road ahead, he says, "If you say so."

I study the alligator head more seriously.

"I'm feeling a surge of creativity coming on. Maybe......" I think to myself.

"Maybe I should add a body to my alligator's head."

Then, using my oil based  toes, I squish a new series of smudges onto the canvas – umm- windshield.

(Alligator Head and Body, Merryscribe, 2011, Windshield Museum of Art)

As I joyfully create, I think to myself: "Hey, if Claude Monet is the father of Impressionism,  it's totally obvious that I am the mother of Smudge-ism."

Furthermore, it's equally apparent that I have discovered not just Smudge-ism.

It's way bigger than that.

I will forever be known as the distinguished founder of ACCIDENTAL ART!

Who knew?

But then again, this is how pure genius is born, isn't it?

It's all coming together right this very minute.

My name will go down in the annals of art history.

And deservedly so.

Because I create stuff.

I am an artiste!

And any artiste worth her salt must go where no artiste has gone before.

She must  innovate.

She must create new ways of looking at objects.

Then she must use new materials as she shrewdly molds those objects into previously unknown visual representations.

I humbly submit to you that I have done just that.

My alligator head has sprung from the enlightened use of my oily toes.

Hence, "Smudge-ism" has entered the world.

That, my friends, is the artistic process.

It really is as simple as that.

Let's take a few minutes to examine some basic art history.

For instance, take your ordinary, garden-variety canvas painters.

I'm talking about people like Leonardo da Vinci,  Rembrandt and Vincent van Gogh.

All boring brush users.

I'm yawning already.

I have come up with something totally new and cutting edge.

Trust me on this - toe tools are the wave of the future.

And here's another thing:

All of the above-mentioned artists used an oil based medium just as I do when I create art.

I'll give them that.

But - and this is a very big but - were any of them clever enough to add a splash of peppermint scent to their paints?

I think not!

And - let's face it - it's that subtle hint of peppermint that makes all the difference to the viewing public.

Finally, it must be recognized that my artwork appears on vehicular glass.

Absolutely none of my revered colleagues were using any such thing!

I lean back into the passenger seat and admire my day's work.

I've just given my alligator head a smudge-based torso with my dainty peppermint-laced toes.

The beguiling result?

My alligator head has suddenly morphed into a stunning stegosaurus.

(Stegosaurus Morphing, Merryscribe, 2011, Windshield Museum of Art)

Surely, my work here is done.

But wait!

I'm feeling oddly creative again.

And that creative itch is just begging to be scratched.

So I carefully place the toes of my right foot on the windshield.

Awestruck,  I watch as my nimble appendages apply smudges to the lower torso of the stegosaurus.

Smudge by eerie smudge, four spindly legs appear on the body of my dinosaur.

Then, with no warning, my toes move to the business end of my smudgy creature.

As if by magic, a tail appears on "Steggy's" hind side.

Suddenly, my whole being collapses into a lengthy sigh.

I feel drained, spent, limp to the bone.

Instinctively, I know that my critter is complete.

And perfect.

(Steggy Completely Perfect, Merryscribe, 2011, Windshield Museum of Art)

"This must be what Leonardo felt like when he finished the "Mona Lisa!" I muse to myself.

Although it has been a long and frustrating journey,  I have finally discovered the purpose for which I was created.

And because of that discovery,  everything in my life has changed.

Now - there can be no going back

Ever.

By the way, I've got a message for you, Mr. Michelangelo.

You know that ceiling you painted in the Sistine Chapel?

We're over it.

It's time to move on, Mike.

Merry's bringin' on the smudge.




Note to my readers:

Lithographs of "Steggy Completely Perfect" will soon be available to my art savvy readers for $1, 500,000  per print.

The artist will sign each lithograph for an additional $500,000.

You must get in on the ground floor of this offer before the art market swallows up "Steggy Completely Perfect."

Consider yourselves warned.

Please do not  follow in the sad footsteps of Renaissance gentleman, Guido Botcheditup, who passed on the opportunity to purchase Leonardo's "Mona Lisa" for a mere 5 florens in 1510.

Guido's descendants are still cursing his name to this very day!