The first full week of fall classes is almost over. I’m not counting the hour on Fridays where I sit and listen to an artist talk about their stuff. That’s less of a class and more of a “hey, it’s Friday and you need a reason to get up before noon”.
Printmaking and drawing are alright, in spite of them being at 8 and 9 a.m., respectively. Art history is fine, although I can’t manage to find the proper syllabus dates on the website and had to manage a discussion today without notes or a copy of the appropriate reading.
Painting II is a fucking headache. I don’t like having class with painting I; I don’t care to split the professor’s already spastic attention between that many students. I don’t like the lack of basic instructions. I don’t like the way she teaches, or her admitted lack of timekeeping (keeping us 40 minutes over class time is okay, but we’re not allowed to take our own breaks?). I’m not a fucking child, and if I needed a lesson in discipline I’d have joined the fucking army.
Non-traditional painting, sure. I’ll do the damned charcoal reductive project, and whatever other not-painting crap she wants us to do. Maybe there’s some Mr. Miyagi shit, and certainly it’s not gonna hurt to learn techniques and processes in other areas, but please- spare me the mickey mouse bullshit.
Also, when Kennedy’s art store is out of charcoal, they won’t hesitate to sell you graphite chunks for 20 bucks instead and not bother to tell you. But then, that’s what they do. Sigh.