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haircuts = art

November 11, 2011

[Welcome to Chasing Maybes. Here, I stare down my preferences and prejudices, one Trivial Pursuit category at a time.  During the month of November, I will be chasing maybes related to Arts and Literature, the brown pie piece.  Join me, won’t you?]

I have never considered myself an artist.

In my seventh grade (mandatory) art class, I was assigned a pencil drawing.  If memory serves, I was permitted to draw anything I wanted, but my masterpiece had to be created with a trusty #2 pencil.  I remember painstakingly sketching a pair of tennis shoes — trying unsuccessfully to capture the laces, the stitching — and finally turning in what I thought was a pretty decent rendering, based on my limited natural talent.

The teacher gave me a D+ on the assignment.  Doesn’t the plus just add insult to injury?

Fortunately, I had parents who responded to my devastation with a lesson about the subjective nature of art.  While I am fairly certain that my drawing was empirically terrible, they talked to me about perspective.  They assured me that the D+ was meaningless, understanding that I had employed every tool in my limited artistic toolbox to earn it.

We could argue about what constitutes art all day long — people far smarter than me have engaged in this debate for centuries — but, here’s the thing:

My husband needs a haircut.

image by striatic via flickr

Anyone who has watched a skilled hairstylist at work knows that cutting hair is an art form.  Cutting hair requires attention to line and form and movement, a fact to which anyone who has received a bad haircut can attest.

Steve has been cutting his own hair with clippers for years.  Only once has he gotten a real salon haircut: years ago, I took him to my beloved Javier for a swanky pre-engagement-photo haircut.  He even bought product.  [Incidentally, I now file this salon visit, alongside his enthusiastic proclamation that my seitan tacos were “delicious,” under Stuff He Has Forced Himself to Do Because He Loves Me.]

Anyway, he was deeply uncomfortable having his locks coiffed by an artiste (if you know him, you are chuckling at the thought of Steve in a fancy salon — I’ll give you a minute… ), so he bought a set of clippers and has been shearing it himself for the past twelve years.   When he was about to shave his head last week, I stopped him, deciding I could do a better job.

After all, I watched this semi-creepy instructive video.

How hard could it be to cut a man’s hair?  [Cue threatening piano chords.]  After all, I learned from the pencil sketch debacle that art is in the eye of the beholder, right?

I think I can do it.  Regardless, I promise to post before and after photos.

Happy Friday, y’all.  I hope it is an A+ in every way.  Thanks for showing up.

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3 Comments leave one →
  1. Steve permalink
    November 11, 2011 9:35 am

    Josh Hartnett, circa 2001, please.

    • November 11, 2011 9:31 pm

      you’ve got it… but are you sure you don’t want freddie prinze junior? noah wyle? let’s not just settle on the first 90’s heartthrob we come across.

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