Not to be hopelessly bleak, but it occurs to me I have not put this thought down.
Art school is an open field, and you get out what you put in, that’s granted;
And not to lionize myself for making the decision;
I am learning to speak a visual language, one that needs no translation it might be argued.
I am learning to imbue thought through material.
To me art school is a end of the world training facility, where a universal language is learned, passed down, cultivated; one that will remain at disposal after the collapse of the economy, after the food shortages, after the solar flares knock us back a hundred years. In the blackouts, I can speak; in the storms, I can paint; in the floods, I’ll sculpt from wet earth and debris. When financial assets evaporate, I’ll have currency. One life right?, so I’m investing in myself.
