There are several questions that I ask myself frequently:

*What's that smell? (Follow up: Oh, dear god, is it me???)

*Uh oh, have I been caught? (Follow up: For which transgression?)

*What fresh hell is this?

*How did I get myself into this?

The last one is particularly relevant lately because I have started taking art classes. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Seeing as how this is a town famous for its artistic community, I figured Pietrasanta would be rife with art classes. What I hadn't quite understood somehow was that it would also be rife with internationally-renowned artists and that they would be in class with me. This was unexpected. They are sculptors, mostly -- coming to class twice a week to avail themselves of the model. So class is made up of the teacher, me, and nine professional world-class artists.

Everyone was very kind to me in a pitying sort of way. If the teacher did sigh and roll his eyes, he didn't do it to my face.

The idea of the class is to reproduce from life a realistic and exact reproduction of the model, who on the first day, from my vantage point, had exactly the facial features and tilt of the head of Michelangelo's Pieta in Saint Peter's Basilica in Rome. (It is demoralizing to have such a stark contrast between my own work and Michelangelo's right from the get-go. I mean, talk about making your shortcomings really glaring...) The model was using the exact same pose as the previous week and to get her back in the precise position (down to the fingertips), the teacher said, "Wait, I have a picture for reference." I assumed it would be a photo on his phone. But no. It was a drawing so exact that it just as well could have been a photograph.

All of this, of course, happened in Italian, a language to which I cling with the very tips of my fingernails. I have now learned the Italian words for knee, charcoal, and eraser.

But I have gotten myself somehow into this and so went back for the next lesson on Thursday, marveling at the bravery of my sons, who were also the new kids in class so many times, and at the generations of college students who have done this when I was the professor. There is a lot of human courage that goes unrecognized in the world.

Here is my drawing from the second night. This is the last time we will speak of it.