Our drawing homework for this past weekend was to analyze a poem and draw something based off of that poem. I did a Frank O' Hara poem as others did Wallace Stevens and etc. I didn't think it was the WORST drawing I'd ever done, but it wasn't up to par with the others and I wasn't as thrilled and satisfied with it as I had been in the past. However, I blew it off, went to class, and unfortunately got my ass kicked. My professor, a naturally cynical man, told me it was juvenile, "too harmonious", and looked like a 14 year old had drawn it. In a nutshell, he told me in front of everyone in the class that if I continue to draw things like this, I will never make it in UCLA's art program. I was taken aback, embarrassed, discouraged, and honestly wanted to run out of the room crying. But of course, I couldn't. I had to sit through the fifteen minute raid on the drawing while every one else in the class could do nothing else but sit in silence. Except for this one girl. She's definitely gotta go. Probably one of the rudest people I've ever had the INconvenience of meeting. But that's besides the point.
I must admit, I have NOT been giving my everything in that class; all I had been doing is expecting to crawl on by with a half-ass effort as I struggle to wake up and do all of my drawing homework the day before. Yes, the professor was right; if I continue to work like this, continue to half-ass the classes MOST important to my future, then I will NOT make it through UCLA art school. I just wish he could have been a little less cynical. But that's life and that's the real world. You come back with bruises and scrapes but in the end you tell the story behind each one.
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