“Baker!”, barked the ostentatiously scruffy art teacher, “What is this supposed to be?”
“A matter replicating machine, sir.”
“Wonderful, and the painting of the bowl of fruit that I asked for, is where?”
“Err…it’s making it?”
“Facetious you are, Baker, an asset to this class you are not.”
And so ended my participation in secondary school art lessons.
I was 12 years old and it was, politely, suggested that I fill the three hours a week in a more personally constructive fashion. Four years later I had learned a smattering of German that was of little use to me until trying to find the bus station in Rio de Janeiro, but that’s another story.
introducing the committee
Nick Baker
Photos and text supplied by Nick Baker
6
Following a Ba Hons in English lit/lang, I emerged into a world where my options seemed to be either teaching or journalism. The thought of going back to school, in any role, was not greatly appealing so I dabbled in the motorcycle magazine market. This dabbling mostly involved getting interviews and then shooting myself in both feet with inane questions about higher salaries and free holidays.
Eventually, the only logical route became apparent – plumbing. I spent 16 years working on building sites and domestic houses; periodically being soaked in various liquids, none of which need detailing here.
It may not be obvious to all but the construction industry is often more of an art-form than a science. This could explain why most projects over-run and cost more than expected. To be a little clearer, let me paint a brief scenario: You are presented with a Victorian house that has been through 15 owners and 471 different tradesmen, each of whom had their own idea of how things should be done. You are now asked to convert the spare room into an en-suite.
Peter by Nick Baker