Intoxication: a sobering experience

1967 London, England
While living and working in England I signed up for a Saturday afternoon art class. Knowing full well that I had never shown any aptitude for painting, I nonetheless, decided to try my hand at it.  At my first class – nothing.  I couldn’t think of anything to paint, and the resulting ‘abstract’ was not pleasing to anyone’s eye, including my own. Then an idea occurred to me.  I would ‘score’ some marijuana and smoke-up prior to the next class.  (This was the late sixties, remember.)  I had often heard that dope stirs the creative side of the brain.  Now, I would find out for myself; a noble experiment.

Buying marijuana in a foreign land, where I knew very few people and had just recently arrived, was tricky, but I accomplished it. Saturday afternoon came.  My brushes were cleaned and my paint supplies were packed.  I was excited, eager to see what would unfold in front of me on my brand new canvas.  Safely tucked away in the rented room of my boarding house, I smoked a full joint.  As I smoked, I imagined with considerable pleasure, discovering the great hidden talent within.

Now, I guess you want to know the results of my experiment.

Well, I’m not exactly sure how to explain it.  I got high, felt mellow, sat around for a while, high and mellow.  The art class?  I never did go.