![Art School Done Date
It’s a late night. Just got off working at the Maxxipad after 2AM, and will graduate from NCCU/Duke with a weird degree in Studio Art focusing on painting, photography and documentary work at 8AM this morning. Not walking.
Q: “So, what’s next?”
A: Work.
So, here’s what I made.
I’m proud that I learned how to draw. When I quit my fancier porn job and decided on the art school path, you have no idea how much I did not understand what I was getting into. Four drawing studios knocked me around, changed my brain and gave me skills that I’ll use the rest of my life.
I’m glad I learned the design fundamentals. I’m also glad I decided on fine art instead of something more financially practical. Quitting a 15-year career in order to learn art-making is a decision you don’t make if you understand the way money works.
Goddamn, I’m so happy I learned how to paint. Materials, techniques, colors, picture planes, many many hours of practicing and hundreds of errors. I’d never want to make a living off painting, and not because that is unrealistic and impossible. Painting is so hard, so weird, so fun, so frustrating, so lonely, so satisfying, and one of those loco obsessive activities that puts you right there, right here, right now.
Forever thankful for the extreme doses of art history. I want more.
I’m proud of myself for trudging through many formal art papers. I fucking hate writing and reading formal art papers. Several years back, I started delving into art blogs. There was one post on a popular art blog that posed the question “Craft or Concept?” It took me a long time to understand what that question meant. Since I tend to change my mind, I suspect that one day I’ll better understand conceptual art projects. But craft is what makes me happy. I’ll be spending the summer painting dumb doodles with encaustic paint. For the fun of it.
Academia breaks down into the same categories as any job. Smart folks, stupid folks, busy folks, lazy folks, nice folks. Mentors, assholes, middlers and Mozarts. Passers by and lifers.
I’m proud of myself for even attempting to learn how to use a camera. Fuck the auto-setting. Love the darkroom. Shoot shoot shoot. Bracket every shot. Rinse and repeat.
[Ego aside: I’m also proud that I started a daily routine of yoga, weights and fun cardio (oh the stories i’ll never tell). When I quit working at Sexyland, I was up to 147 pounds. It took three years to lose almost thirty of those bastards.]
Shooting student-type documentaries saved my life. At the beginning of this year, I got really drunk and tried - badly, obnoxiously, toxically, hilariously - to eighty-six myself on a really long plane ride. That dumb move hurt loved ones and strangers more than me, and I’m sorry for that. Two days later, I sat in a class and listened to another crazy person talk some shit about Odysseus. Lawd and behold, I was saved.
Editing video is complicated, difficult, amusing, time-consuming, powerful. During a Q&A back in March, a filmmaker said “I have two post-it notes above my hub. One says ‘What do I know?’ The other says ‘What happens next?’” Terrifically helpful advice.
I’m proud of myself for taking this risk. It’s still thrilling and mostly terrifying. But I made it, and my GPA fucking rocks. Bring on the minimum wage.
I’m thankful for the still-beating hearts at NCCU, the awesome folks at the Center for Documentary Studies, Penland School of Crafts, all the friends, artists, mentors, former and current coworkers and family folks who’ve offered support over the last three years. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Above all, I’m thankful and eternally indebted to my partner and harshest critic. None of this crazy shit would have been possible without his emotional and financial support. It thrills me to death when he actually likes something I’ve made. Dude keeps me on my motherfucking toes, with no eggshells on the tightrope.
Matthew, I love you so very much. Now it’s your turn. Go get ‘em, Boss Man.
/art skool
[image: 6.19.07]](http://29.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_l2ga4xSBQs1qz7semo1_400.jpg)
Art School Done Date
It’s a late night. Just got off working at the Maxxipad after 2AM, and will graduate from NCCU/Duke with a weird degree in Studio Art focusing on painting, photography and documentary work at 8AM this morning. Not walking.
Q: “So, what’s next?”
A: Work.
So, here’s what I made.
I’m proud that I learned how to draw. When I quit my fancier porn job and decided on the art school path, you have no idea how much I did not understand what I was getting into. Four drawing studios knocked me around, changed my brain and gave me skills that I’ll use the rest of my life.
I’m glad I learned the design fundamentals. I’m also glad I decided on fine art instead of something more financially practical. Quitting a 15-year career in order to learn art-making is a decision you don’t make if you understand the way money works.
Goddamn, I’m so happy I learned how to paint. Materials, techniques, colors, picture planes, many many hours of practicing and hundreds of errors. I’d never want to make a living off painting, and not because that is unrealistic and impossible. Painting is so hard, so weird, so fun, so frustrating, so lonely, so satisfying, and one of those loco obsessive activities that puts you right there, right here, right now.
Forever thankful for the extreme doses of art history. I want more.
I’m proud of myself for trudging through many formal art papers. I fucking hate writing and reading formal art papers. Several years back, I started delving into art blogs. There was one post on a popular art blog that posed the question “Craft or Concept?” It took me a long time to understand what that question meant. Since I tend to change my mind, I suspect that one day I’ll better understand conceptual art projects. But craft is what makes me happy. I’ll be spending the summer painting dumb doodles with encaustic paint. For the fun of it.
Academia breaks down into the same categories as any job. Smart folks, stupid folks, busy folks, lazy folks, nice folks. Mentors, assholes, middlers and Mozarts. Passers by and lifers.
I’m proud of myself for even attempting to learn how to use a camera. Fuck the auto-setting. Love the darkroom. Shoot shoot shoot. Bracket every shot. Rinse and repeat.
[Ego aside: I’m also proud that I started a daily routine of yoga, weights and fun cardio (oh the stories i’ll never tell). When I quit working at Sexyland, I was up to 147 pounds. It took three years to lose almost thirty of those bastards.]
Shooting student-type documentaries saved my life. At the beginning of this year, I got really drunk and tried - badly, obnoxiously, toxically, hilariously - to eighty-six myself on a really long plane ride. That dumb move hurt loved ones and strangers more than me, and I’m sorry for that. Two days later, I sat in a class and listened to another crazy person talk some shit about Odysseus. Lawd and behold, I was saved.
Editing video is complicated, difficult, amusing, time-consuming, powerful. During a Q&A back in March, a filmmaker said “I have two post-it notes above my hub. One says ‘What do I know?’ The other says ‘What happens next?’” Terrifically helpful advice.
I’m proud of myself for taking this risk. It’s still thrilling and mostly terrifying. But I made it, and my GPA fucking rocks. Bring on the minimum wage.
I’m thankful for the still-beating hearts at NCCU, the awesome folks at the Center for Documentary Studies, Penland School of Crafts, all the friends, artists, mentors, former and current coworkers and family folks who’ve offered support over the last three years. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Above all, I’m thankful and eternally indebted to my partner and harshest critic. None of this crazy shit would have been possible without his emotional and financial support. It thrills me to death when he actually likes something I’ve made. Dude keeps me on my motherfucking toes, with no eggshells on the tightrope.
Matthew, I love you so very much. Now it’s your turn. Go get ‘em, Boss Man.
/art skool
[image: 6.19.07]
