Every Ugly Word

by Aimee L. Salter

People were my “thing.” Mrs. Driley encouraged me to use the human form in my portfolio as much as possible, because I was good at it. But I felt most vulnerable when I drew people I knew. Sure, I could get the curve of Matt’s dark lashes right, the shape of his cheekbone . . . but how could I communicate the warmth of his skin? I flipped back to the image of Finn and considered turning the idea into a painting—using a spatula for hard lines to depict the sharpness of his features, heavy thick paint for his rhinoceros skin, fat brush strokes for his brows, like caterpillars on his face, his long mouth a venomous red slash. For Karyn I’d use glossy pastels—waxy crayons that shone on the paper. I could layer red, white, beige, and cream to make her cheeks blush. Then, when everything was done, use a tool to scrape her eyes out of the heavy wax, holes in a poisonous blanket.