The First Semester
Hi Mom.
Sorry for the 4 week hiatus...the end of the semester has been stressful, chaotic, enlightening, exhausting and a million other things.
Let us take a journey through a relatively average students's freshman fall semester in art school.
Drawing 1/Perspective:
And then a series of unfortunate self portraits:
My other classes consisted of Storytelling, Film and Narrative, and Intro to Theater: Elements of Plays. Our final project in Storytelling was a fully revised Short Story, which I will post on its own since it's quite long. Something I was hesitant about was told I could make it even longer because my classmates and teacher liked it so much.
The main thing I learned this semester, aside from gradual building up my skills in drawing - I do feel the improvement and am very happy with my overall work and progress - is the fact that the person teaching you can make a ginormous difference. I'd always known this, but I'd never really had two experiences so stark in contrast before.
It's interesting, really. I remember before classes even started, I was talking to a few friends that I'd known from PreCollege who are a year ahead of me at Ringling. I got the inside scoop on my teachers and mentally prepared myself for a semester of Hell. And what happened was the complete opposite of what they told me. While they'd warned me that my Drawing 1 teacher was notorious for being nit picky and slightly cruel, I found him to be insightful, encouraging and constructive. Whereas when they told me my figure drawing teacher was very good, I discovered the opposite: he was self obsessed, chose favorites and then taught only to them, he called out by name people who he thought were the worst in the class and said so loudly in front of everyone, keeping a smile the entire time. Luckily, I managed to fly right around the middle in figure drawing. He usually completely ignored me and if he did grace me with his words he usually pointed at one specific part and said "this is too small or too big" and walked on. I considered it a blessing that he wasn't making me cry in front of my classmates or even the opposite: praising my work and building me up only to tear me down on an off day when my work dropped below his standard. I saw both happen throughout the semester to my classmates.
A direct comparison came mid semester when I noticed my drawing teacher would always ask permission before taking his pencil and making adjustments to someone's drawing, whether it was simply in sketchbook or on a final piece in progress whereas my figure drawing teacher almost always sat down where you where and without asking would draw on your piece, taking liberties to erase and draw what he considered to be right. Don't get me wrong, I COMPLETELY understand and appreciate everything teachers do. They are the ones that I come to school for, to learn from. But, I do not think any teacher should ever assume the way they do things is the 'right' way. I believe strongly in correct techniques in drawing, but I also believe in every artist's individual style. While my figure drawing teacher tried to pound out any originality we had when it came to mark making and style, my drawing teacher commended us on our differences, so long as the techniques and perspective were right.
I learned a lot about myself this semester. I learned that I am a fast learner but I lack confidence. I get lonely and sad but that's okay. I learned what it means to fight for what I want and that sometimes just getting out of bed and out of your head is the hardest part of the day. I learned that a private bathroom is priceless and that crying is very big part of life. The procrastinator in me never really reared its ugly head this semester, and for that I am grateful. I learned that long distance relationships are as hard as everyone said they are but that the only reason we every fought or got angry was because we miss each other so much.
Most importantly, I learned that I hate - with every fiber of my being - humidity.
Sorry for the 4 week hiatus...the end of the semester has been stressful, chaotic, enlightening, exhausting and a million other things.
Let us take a journey through a relatively average students's freshman fall semester in art school.
Drawing 1/Perspective:
Figure Drawing 1:
And then a series of unfortunate self portraits:
The main thing I learned this semester, aside from gradual building up my skills in drawing - I do feel the improvement and am very happy with my overall work and progress - is the fact that the person teaching you can make a ginormous difference. I'd always known this, but I'd never really had two experiences so stark in contrast before.
It's interesting, really. I remember before classes even started, I was talking to a few friends that I'd known from PreCollege who are a year ahead of me at Ringling. I got the inside scoop on my teachers and mentally prepared myself for a semester of Hell. And what happened was the complete opposite of what they told me. While they'd warned me that my Drawing 1 teacher was notorious for being nit picky and slightly cruel, I found him to be insightful, encouraging and constructive. Whereas when they told me my figure drawing teacher was very good, I discovered the opposite: he was self obsessed, chose favorites and then taught only to them, he called out by name people who he thought were the worst in the class and said so loudly in front of everyone, keeping a smile the entire time. Luckily, I managed to fly right around the middle in figure drawing. He usually completely ignored me and if he did grace me with his words he usually pointed at one specific part and said "this is too small or too big" and walked on. I considered it a blessing that he wasn't making me cry in front of my classmates or even the opposite: praising my work and building me up only to tear me down on an off day when my work dropped below his standard. I saw both happen throughout the semester to my classmates.
A direct comparison came mid semester when I noticed my drawing teacher would always ask permission before taking his pencil and making adjustments to someone's drawing, whether it was simply in sketchbook or on a final piece in progress whereas my figure drawing teacher almost always sat down where you where and without asking would draw on your piece, taking liberties to erase and draw what he considered to be right. Don't get me wrong, I COMPLETELY understand and appreciate everything teachers do. They are the ones that I come to school for, to learn from. But, I do not think any teacher should ever assume the way they do things is the 'right' way. I believe strongly in correct techniques in drawing, but I also believe in every artist's individual style. While my figure drawing teacher tried to pound out any originality we had when it came to mark making and style, my drawing teacher commended us on our differences, so long as the techniques and perspective were right.
I learned a lot about myself this semester. I learned that I am a fast learner but I lack confidence. I get lonely and sad but that's okay. I learned what it means to fight for what I want and that sometimes just getting out of bed and out of your head is the hardest part of the day. I learned that a private bathroom is priceless and that crying is very big part of life. The procrastinator in me never really reared its ugly head this semester, and for that I am grateful. I learned that long distance relationships are as hard as everyone said they are but that the only reason we every fought or got angry was because we miss each other so much.
Most importantly, I learned that I hate - with every fiber of my being - humidity.
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