The Jim Dine Experience

When I was in college, my friend Lisa (an art history major) told my friend Debbie and me about the painter Jim Dine, a guy who got so into the act of artistic creation that he was driven to drink the paint he was using. (Incidentally, I have no idea how accurate this story was--I just know that we thought it was hysterical and wanted Lisa to tell it over and over again.)

This weekend, Elliot and Astrid and I had our own version of The Jim Dine experience. After hearing a lecture by the sociologist Barbara Katz Rothman--whose beautiful grey hair was french-braided and streaked purple down the middle of the braid--I got it into my head (almost literally) that I needed some obviously non-natural color in my own quickly greying mop. All in all, I think I spent two hours (over two trips) at Sally Beauty Supply (an art supply store like no other....), and probably four hours doing the actual bleaching and dyeing. Elliot was characteristically stoic--we did him twice over two nights--hardly any complaints at all. Astrid, of course, was the opposite: head over the edge of the tub, screaming that her neck was being broken. Needless to say, I didn't rinse her hair "until the water r[an] perfectly clear." I vowed that under no circumstances would I ever, ever color her hair again, no matter how much she begged. Under his voice, Elliot said, "You don't really mean that, do you? I know you don't....it's okay, Mom."

So now all three of us have at least a bit of blue (in my case, blue and violet) hair. We didn't drink the dye, but it sort of feels like we did.