First year Art School saw a class of thirty plus with nearly all enrolled in the Commercial Art program. Walt Drohan, then Drahanchuk, and I mounted a small insurrection; opting for the fine art program we also persuaded a goodly number of fellow students to join us. This threw the administration for a loop as the classes were structured for the Commercial Art end with the Fine Art option mostly an afterthought. All in all it was a typical art school experience. First year foundation, second year drawing plaster casts of the masters, third year nude models, and fourth year some serious painting or sculpture or both. In our case (Walt Drahanchuk and I) it was both having pursued the fine art end of things.

As hard as it is to believe I managed to go through the entire Art School process without having gone through the exercise of stretching, and sizing, a canvas. The painting support of choice at that time was a product called beaverboard. A precursor to masonite the four foot by eight foot panels were comprised of compressed paper that had a tendency to warp, swell up, and separate when wet! In addition to all that the corners were prone to break off. Many years later at a small party thrown by the Canadian consul in Barbados I would overhear my old teacher Buck Kerr complaining to all, and sundry, how he was shortchanged on his art school experience while I was explaining to the small group I was talking to about the shortcomings of my art school experience. When you consider Buck had been taught by members of the Group of Seven one gets some idea of the dimension of the problem. Ive always taken the view that while Buck Kerr, Luke Lindoe, Stan Perrott, and the others didnt have all the answers they pointed my nose in the right direction, and it was my responsibility to make sure whatever gaps there were, were all filled in, in due course. Filling in the gaps actually turned out to be a somewhat fruitful experience. Not having dealt with glazes as part of an art school learning process led to an exploration that was ultimately responsible for the oil paintings with their many glazes of the Regina Five exhibition.

For the most part it was the usual, quite forgettable, 19thcentury template of typical art school training. Some events, mostly post card moments, do seem to stand out. Our Art History consisted of Stan Perrott showing us a few slides, or our first visit to the cast room. Showing a slide of The Night Watch, Stan Perrott asked if any of us knew who it was by. Showing off I said Van Riijn. Another student turned to me, and said, you dumb ass - its Rembrandt! Stan never bothered correcting him with the revelation that Rembrandts full name was indeed Rembrandt Van Riijn. In the darkened room Stan settled for drifting by my desk, and whispering, you pass with a wistful sigh, and nod of the head. We were a rude untutored lot, and I am sure that being required to teach that particular class was hard shrift for Stan.

First year foundation was design and colour theory, the six architectonic forms (cube, rectilinear, sphere, cone, tube, and pyramid) ending with a fleeting introduction to the cast room where many of the Old Masters masterpieces were in plaster casts. Access to the cast room was carefully monitored, and regulated as the tendency for Michelangelo's David , or any exposed willie for that matter, to acquire a red hue was rampant.

The one happening that I remember was an incident that transpired in one of Marion Nicolls watercolour classes. Maid Marion was teaching the class in one of the D building rooms. It was a convenience for her, and I suppose I should explain that. When WW2 broke out the art school vacated its premises so young men from all over the world could be taught how to kill people in the Commonwealth Air Training Program. Facilities were in short supply, and as a war measure, some wooden buildings were hastily thrown together. D building was one of those buildings, separate from the art school proper, and a holdover from WW2 that hadnt been torn down yet. Miz Marions jewelry craft classes were all taught in D building so it was her empire de facto. She ruled it with an iron hand, and steely gaze. When Miz Nicoll wanted to she could put her googly eyes on you, and give you the ray like nobodies business. Most of the time she sat at a large table in the center of the building surrounded by the special favored few. Like a benelovent spider at the center of her web she would sit there with her special students in attendance drinking the latest rage; lapsang suchow tea. Well, that is how it seemed to the rest of us who referred to her favorites as the coven.

Tall, and statuesque with considerable girth Miz Nicoll was, Beef to the heel like a Mullingar calf, as the Irish would say. Quite formidable indeed! On the day I refer to she had set up a still life for us to paint. Before leaving the room she stood there drawn up to full majestic height looking for all the world like a Gaston LaChaise sculpture come to life! Hands on hips with the ray set on full intensity we were instructed that she wanted to see the third dimensional edge on the laces of an old boot that was part of the setup. Having scared the living heck out of us she turned, and stomped out of the room to return to her coven. Sitting in the silence assessing it all we could hear the stomp, stomp, of her footsteps receding down the hall.

So there we all were struggling with that third dimensional edge on those darn shoe laces! Walt Drohan (at that time Drahanchuk) was taking a break from the intensity of it all. Strolling around the outside of all the works in progress he was seeing what other people were doing. Stopping at Tad Wiechulas place he, and Tad, were having a short conversation about some aspect of Tads watercolour. Tad was a painfully shy individual who was timid in the extreme. Walt was standing of course, and Tad leaned back in his chair to get a better look-see of what Walt was talking about. Leaning a bit too far the chair fell over backwards, and heading for the floor Tad grabbed for whatever was handy to impede his fall. This turned out to be rather unfortunate for Walt. Reaching for whatever he could get hold of turned out be a fair bunch of Walts pubic hair. As Walt let out an anguished scream whilst sinking to the floor with glazed eyes Tad was definitely not letting go. At the first sound of Walts anguished plea of pain that I am sure was heard well beyond the confines of D building, dare I say 16th avenue, I looked up to see the whole tableau unfold before my eyes. It was certainly apparent that Tad was indeed falling, and equally apparent exactly what Tad had hold of to lessen the fall. From the look of pain on Walts face, and the volume of his anguished howl it was also equally apparent as to why he was crumpling to the floor as well.

Coincident with the floor ending Tads free fall, and an end to Walts howl of anguish we heard the ominous sound of Marion charging down the hall at full elephant stomp with every jarring footfall shaking the poor old wooden building. Walt quickly got back to his place, and when Marion appeared everyone was head down, brush on the move and, gazing intently at the surface of their artwork. Looking out of the corners of our eye we could see Marion slowly walking around behind us every so often stopping, and trying to catch one of us looking at her. We were well up to her ways, and no one was going to give her a chance to question as we all kept our heads down. After three circumnavigations of the room she left pausing at the door to give us a final Hmmph! When nobody responded she returned to her inner circle group.

It seemed that when ever they were trying to show us off we were at our worst. Two examples should suffice. Showing some dignitaries around from the advanced learning ministry in Edmonton they came into the classroom to find five of us bent at the waist and with our heads between our legs having an earnest discussion about a large painting on the easel. We wanted to get a fresh view, and the painting was large enough it was difficult to turn without getting wet paint on ourselves. It all sounds so reasonable unless you are the head of the School trying to impress the powers that be who have descended from the Edmonton, and you have five of your brightest star students with their heads between their legs discussing art work!

There was another time, with another set of Officials who came, and interrupted us in the middle of our mid winter revels. With the January blahs heavy on us and the air very dry there we were in our stocking feet shuffling back and forth across the floor with outstretched arm, and finger pointing as we built up static electrical charges which we could zap our fellow students with. Interesting enough our nude model with her slippers, and robe on, was gaily joining in the nonsense as well! Poor old Buck; he just shook his head, and left the room. As usual he had Stan Perrott in tow as well. In typical Perrott fashion Stan was bringing up the rear, and just before exiting he turned, and for our benefit, gave us a cocked head wonderful ear to ear chesire cat grin.

Out of the class of thirty plus that started with such high hopes only one graduated, and it wasnt me. Each year would see less, and less, returning as some gave up, and others found jobs. My excuse for not making it was the simple fact that I was a fine art major with no job prospects. When Roy Kiyooka said I could have his job as a shocard artist, and window dresser, at The Parisien if I could learn how to do sho card writing I jumped at the chance. Buying myself a #7 red sable flat I would practice making Os, Ws, 8's, Ss and ones over, and over, and over hoping to get the hang of it. Showing my presentation shocard to Stan Blodget he suggested I get someone else to do one. Roy, quite rightfully, said I would have to make it on the basis on what I had done, or not make it at all. With great fear, and loathing, I took the sign in, and as luck would have it there was a Jewish gentlemen from the east showing Helen Rockwell the Buyer a new line, and he wasnt about to say anything negativeabout anything. When she asked him his opinion of my work the best he could muster was an it is certainly striking, and it was on that basis that I was hired. Shortly after my arrival they did an 88 cent sale, and I had to do four floors of 98.88, 88.88, 38.88 etc., etc., etc! Did I mention that 8 with its two circles above and below was the absolutely hardest letter there was to do? I stuck with it, and just about the time I was actually able to turn out a creditable sho card I was hired by the new television station in Lethbridge to be their Art Director. Knowing absolutely nothing about the job apparently my enthusiasm seemed to qualify me for it. The other person in the running for the job was Dennis Burton. I undoubtedly did him a favour as he stayed on in Toronto, and had a fine career. For me it was another learning experience! Just as I got a handle on that job I was offered a job neon designing in Calgary replacing Steve Kiss. I stuck it there for awhile, was transferred back to Lethbridge, and eventually was transferred to Regina.