the first thing,
a complex thing—that shame.
a lump of clay fashioned
into a face
the blonde hair, glazed—
the shine thick with awkwardness.
sick pink features, eyes
cut crookedly into slits.
I recall pastel blues.
I was five years old.
Later and often, I would try to steal this small grotesque slab from my mother, my cheeks flaring when she would refuse its destruction.
It was ugly.
She could not convince me otherwise.
I never wanted anyone else to see this melted excuse for “art”
At 7, at 10, at 15.
My mother still has this “first.”
I recently asked her why she keeps it.
“It was the first, it was endearing, it was special.”
djbrass received her degree from the Slade School of Fine Art in London. She is a UK-based artist and writer and facilitates art programming for a well-being initiative on the southeast coast of England, where she also served as an editor and contributor for xfxthemag (http://xfxthemag.com/).