Date: October 25, 2018
Maybe... maybe this was a mistake.
It's been midterm evaluations all this week, and yesterday was the midterm for drawing class. Obviously that's the one I care the most about, since drawing's really what I wanna do and Rudy's the teacher I most wanna be like. And I've been feeling pretty good about my work, even looking forward to getting a full-on critique.
Rudy looked through my sketchbooks and all the work I've done this semester with an unreadable expression. But before he said what he thought, he asked me how I felt about it. I knew the question was a test but I answered honestly, that I was proud of the work I was doing and could see how I was getting better. Rudy just... hummed.
“Jake, I think you're a very talented artist,” he said. “Your work is technically proficient. But we're halfway through the semester, and it feels like the only thing I know about you is that you like to draw.”
“What else is there?” I said back. I was trying to make a joke, but I could tell once I said it that I fucked up. Rudy just frowned at me.
He started to ask me questions like, Why do you draw? What inspires you? What do you want other people to take away from your work? I didn't have answers to anything he was asking. I don't really... know. I draw because it's what I do. I told him, it's like asking me why I breathe. It just is who I am.
Rudy clapped me on the shoulder and told me to think about it. He said that art school is the best time to question all this stuff, because after I graduate, I won't have as much time to explore my options or figure things out.
I think he was trying to be empowering, or whatever, but now I don't really know what I'm supposed to do. Why do I draw? More like, what choice do I have but to draw?
J.
