First Week of Classes
Today I bought Sinead O'Connor's debut album. I think that's cool. I'm glad that I did—It's a bit richer than the twelve bucks I spent on that Linkin Park album, but I bought that for the sake of my new project, which will require some new and fresh hard music—other than Marilyn Manson, since I've just about spent him on writing Children of Falin. Sinead is some good relaxation music. Good for morning walking and so on.
Life at MICA is settling in and I'm doing well. I really like it here. My first week of classes went completely without a hitch and I'm quite glad of everything that's happening here. I'm also discovering a little bit about what exactly my voice is, artistically speaking. I've also met some great people and am loving the time I spend with all of them. Knocking on people's doors to see if they're around and if they want to watch a movie, hang out at the Meyerhoff, whatever.
I've worked out a system that allows me to get work done—at least, hopefully—and yet also stay alive, fresh, and relaxed. I work on a typical 9-5 schedule, more or less, but after dinner, I don't work. I use that time for hanging out with people, talking, and generally enjoying the campus and city. Similarly for fridays, especially given that I have no classes that day. That allows me to have a working study day where I can finish projects, catch up on assignments, and all other sorts of things. Hopefully I won't have to use Saturdays similarly—certainly not Sundays. But if I have to use Saturdays for maintenence issues, laundry, shopping, and whatever else, I will. I could easily find myself working constantly, but I seriously don't want to become a workaholic here, however possibly it may be. I don't want this year to pass as if it was just a complete blur of sleep, eating, working, and saying "hi" to people as I pass. Already I have too many relationships that are too important to do that. It's interesting to think that I matter here.
For instance, today, one of my friends completely broke down in Drawing 1. She was so nervous and had such a strong fear of the competitive atmosphere that she simply left the classroom, breaking into tears. I had spent the morning with her earlier and I knew that she was nervous, so of course I followed her out. She was sitting in one of the small staircases on the second floor of the Main Building in a complete meltdown. So she cried on my shoulder for a little bit, letting her fear and past negative experiences of drawing classes spill out. She was so worked up—the anxiety of not being good enough compared to others and having a total lack of skill in drawing (which wasn't really her case) just completely got to her and paralyzed her. I didn't say anything for a long time; I just let her spill everything she needed to. Later on, though, the teacher came out and encouraged her, and eventually she was able to go back in and push out three great drawings. She's still very leary and maybe a little tender from the anxiety, but I think she'll be okay.
Her case is only one of many, I think, in this school. It's not that the school naturally fosters a competitive spirit—it's quite the opposite. Rather, it's the new students that are so high-strung about their classes; they can easily break down from the fear of it all. I admit, looking at other peoples' drawings while you're working can be very intimidating—especially if they're really good. But the teachers are always very good about that and, in the end, everything leaves pretty much on the same level. The point is not to foster one's own past-successful techniques, but to learn from the ground up once again. Everything the "master" shaders in the room had to eschew their favorite tools for the contour techniques that the teachers taught. It's interesting to think that the point of drawing, at this stage, is not to make something look like a good representational object. It's rather about understanding the form on a foundational level—not as one has seen it before. There's a lot of broken boundaries right now—a lot of broken intentions and, maybe, a lot of broken hearts. But the great thing is that we're all here to support each other, and that's actively happening. From what I've heard of the other art Schools like Pratt and Rigby (spelling/name?), MICA is like a massive artist squatting house with some extremely smart people and some extremely talented kids who want to learn everything they can. It's got no pretensions. It wants to forge artists—not brainwashed students who came from this school or that school. It really is like a commune—without the roaches, ignorance, and laziness. And I'm really loving every minute of it.
I often feel like I'm walking down the streets of Dublin when the skies are overcast above Bolton Hill and the morning traffic is just starting up. There aren't streetlamps, the buildings are stone and scrunched together; the roots of the trees are bursting up through the rocks. I snap on my iPod with some drony kind of electronic music; jazzy or downtempo, perhaps—or Sinead O'Connor now, and I'm going towards the Station building or whatever. Between that and the grassy knole of the Commons, where everyone comes out for the night, I really do feel like I'm in heaven. People don't judge. They're interested in art and spirituality and culture. Who said there wasn't a utopia for artists on the east coast?