"Dreams get you through the hard times" ~ Running with Scissors
My day was trivial, but the minute things that happened strung together larger ideas - larger worries.
So today I had Lieberman’s art class (the one I don’t like). I swear that woman hates me. We got our recent projects back and I got a fucking B+. When during the critique she said there was nothing I could do more, it already looked good. Then other projects that she said needed some work got A’s. It put me on a down spiral. I gave up on the project I was working on and began thinking about how I’m transferring to an art school and I might not be good enough. Then of course I began comparing myself to other people and everyone else was getting the hang of it and I wasn’t. These are my eternal and unending troubles in art. It’s hard because I know I’m a good artist (at least in certain ways) but not in some techniques (like design…grr…fucking black and white bullshit). It’s really discouraging and the teacher doesn’t help the situation at all. She’s a terrible teacher, really. I’ve had people tell me that I’m good, but those are the people that have seen what I’ve done, and for the people that haven’t I feel like my potential is being suspended. I’m tired of having borders to assignments. I want a teacher that says “throw on a smock and go crazy. Show me what you can do.” But no, assignments are assignments whether there’s room for creativity or not. Someday I’ll just paint something crazy for myself. I’ve never been able to do that. I want to do something that doesn’t need a grade slapped on it, muddying up my creation.
After that I had lunch with Brooke and talking to her made me feel a bit better. It helped take my mind off it and I got my appetite back.
I also wanted to add in that every day I pass through this garden area at State and about eye level in this bush I see a nest with a beautiful little dove sitting in it. I see her every day - even that rainy Monday - and she’s always in the same position. But today I walked by and she had shifted positions. I stopped to look at her and she stared wide-eyed in my direction. Then she shifted slightly and I see this little grey fur-ball scrounge its way up to the surface and this little eye poke out and look at me. It was the cutest thing I’d ever seen. It gave me a momentary peace.
So after lunch I went to World Religions. Buddhism. After class we all got up and lined up to see our grades on the Hinduism test.
Mr. Mueller looks at the first name: “B”
“C”
“78…that’s a B-”
Then I get up to him and say my last name. He puts his finger on my grade and I look at it, “95…A”
I’m exultant inside. But if that wasn’t enough, Mr. Mueller turns to me, looks me straight in the eye and I swear he reaches down into the depths of my soul gathering every tether of my being to focus on what he’s about to say to me and he says, “good job…really, good job.” And I swear to you I don’t think I’ve ever felt like someone was more proud of me than he was at that moment. It was one of the best feelings. It felt like I was better…like I had done the best in the class…like I was good enough…nay, like he wanted to shake my hand and have coffee with me, intellect to intellect.
I smiled all the way to my next class. Then there was a brief moment that I worried that maybe my intellect would be wasted if I went to art school. I love to learn, I’m really studious, and I’m great at memorizing. I was afraid I’d lose that at art school - they don’t care if you’re smart there, just good enough. Then I reminded myself that yes, I am smart, but I’m not willing to apply anything after college using any biology, psychology, religions, or anything else; learning it is wonderful, but studying it back to front and using it for the rest of my life would bore me. I may not always be able to get my art done right for my teachers, but damn if I’m not ready to apply that for the rest of my life. Art always gives me something different to look forward to, there’s no limit to creativity or imagination (just assignments, right?) and I think I’ll be happy with it.
Then my Art100 class (the one I like) gives me a reason to live. I fucking love that class. I never know what we’ll be doing from day to day; it has that element of surprise. I love it.
Art 101 sucks though….yeah…sucks.