I thought that it would be appropriate to make a written record or blog post about the now-famous clay fetus that I made last semester, which currently adorns our office on my boss's desk. Some of you may not have heard the full story of this clay fetus, so I thought I would share how it came about (which, might I add, was different than how most fetuses come about). This may be a source of extreme discomfort, unusual hilarium, or it may just strike you as weird (a justified response). Possibly a combination of those three feelings.
It all began...
Last semester when I decided to take a Ceramics/Pottery class at BYU. I thought it would be a fun 3-credit class that would help me be a more well-rounded individual. The first big project my hippie teacher assigned to us (emphasizing that you get more points the more abstract aka WEIRD you are) was to find a 2-D work of art done by a famous artist and make it 3-D. I kind of forgot about the project until 5 minutes before class, at which time we were supposed to show up with a printed picture of the art we would replicate. In a rush, I googled the first artist that came to mind, Leonardo Da Vinci. I always liked his art because it looked more realistic and meaningful to me. One of the first pieces of art that appeared was this one:

Although I can't exactly recall WHAT was going through my head when I decided this would be an appropriate piece of art to create and present in front of my class, I think it was something like:
"Oh, I like babies...and anatomy...and I have class in 5 minutes so I'll do this, yeah!"
Apparently I didn't seem to take into consideration the fact that:
#1. That is REALLY hard to make out of clay
#2. What would people think of me, a 25 year-old single girl, if I told them I made a FETUS as a project? Baby hungry, much?
#3. What would I do with that after I make it? Centerpiece for Relief Society? Soap holder? Book end?
After explaining my idea naively to my hippie-teacher (who loved my idea, btw), I decided to begin, work on, and finish this project in one Friday night. So that Friday night I said no to all the boys asking me out (jk) and marched my way over to the Ceramics lab. As I started to make it, I realized that the proportions were WAY off (head= too small; limbs=just weird; torso=not normal-looking) but hey, I had 4 hours to get it done and I would force those creative juices to flow whether they liked it or not.
So then, after 4 hours of toil and forced creativity, I produced this masterpiece (before judging me, please understand that I had no idea where to put the legs onto the torso, I didn't mean for it to turn out so perverted and awkward):
My initial thought: "Am I subconsciously a pervert?"
Second thought: "So I have to present this in front of my whole class on Tuesday. Would it be less or more awkward to put a diaper on it?"
I decided to just forget about it and email my teacher. Afterall, it was 11 pm on Friday night.
Luckily, my hippie-teacher (after a few minutes of stiffled laughter after seeing the "masterpiece" and a few questions of WHY I would make it look that awkward), explained to me about the importance of adding extra clay as "joints" (novel) so the cylinder-legs I had made didn't just stick out awkwardly from the torso.
Good idea.
After some reconstruction surgery, the beauty was transformed to this:
Better, but still a little weird. Or a lot of weird. My teacher than informed me that since it didn't "look realistic" I should "go for abstract" and add some cool designs on it. Again, trying to force myself to be creative, all I could think to do was to make some markings on its head and then some lines on it's back. (Yeah, no meaning). Unfortunately this well-intentioned creativity was then criticized by my teacher as "looking like I messed up and had to cover it up." (In my defense, she never taught us HOW to be creative or abstract).
Eventually after a couple of firings and paint jobs, The Fetus began to look more...well, there's nothing really to describe he/she/it:
Still a little weird. I don't know what I was thinking with those markings...
Now The Fetus has become the Chemistry Business Office Mascot. It sits on my boss's desk, graciously absorbing the lay citizen's awkward glances or the uptight professor's critical eye. And I will probably go down in history as "the girl that made the clay fetus" (my other virtues are far less noticeable).
Can you spot The Fetus?
Who would have thought that THAT would be my legend at BYU?