Elbow Grease

As a child I struggled with hard physical chores, like scaling away rust before repainting a metal object. I was a weak, asthmatic child, unlike my father whose tall, athletic frame had been hardened by years of farm work and service in the Marines.

“Put a little elbow grease in there,” he would tell me, as I listlessly swiped a square of sandpaper at a rust stain on the backyard barbecue. “Here, I’ll show you.”

Of course, when he demonstrated, the red flakes flew off in pink clouds, and revealed the silver sheen of the metal beneath. He handed the abrasive sheet back to me.

I redoubled my efforts, sanding faster, and putting my weight into it. Gradually the rust fell away, and I was allowed to spray the cooker with stove blacking from a can. Since that time, whenever I’m faced with a strenuous, repetitive task, I can hear Put a little elbow grease in there.

This advice came in handy years later, when I began making ceramic sculptures. After the clay form was fired, I painted them all over with sequential coats of paint in varying bright colors.

I needed plenty of elbow grease to sand down through the layers of paint and reveal contour lines, blobs, and bursts of color

Detail from an early sculpture

For more stories and outsider art adventures, please take a look at my second memoir, Lightbulb Coffee. Just click below, for a free peek: