I say day 3 as it’s my third day back in Philly, and my second day of the Spring Semester. I dropped my Friday morning class yesterday, because it was a self-directed class, and for my buck I prefer either a ‘try weird stuff’ class, or a structured academic class. I’d had the teacher before too. So this Friday morning I woke as if I did have class, and went to the library and did office work before the semester gets too crazy. I’d ordered an expensive camcorder, and returned that via FedEx today, then used a free coffee coupon that I’d been holding onto for two months. The coffee was good, especially as it was my first in two days. I ordered a stack of books off line, books I’ve been thinking I wished I’d had around one too many times. In the afternoon I went to Animal Anatomy class with John Horn. John drew on the board a grid, then within a horse skeleton, all very matter of fact. I can tell this will be an enlightening class. In the evening I went to visit Caitlin Ott’s studio, and we talked and worked on projects together for a few hours, checking the clock every so often before agreeing that we would not go out to see the show on 22nd street, but rather stay in and paint. At the end of the night I walked her to her trolley and she offered that I live with her and her roommate and boyfriend, and I accepted. I greatly look forward to a reduced rent and two cool roommates- one who is a motivated sculptor, and the other a musician. Today I posted a thesis statement in the school elevators bearing my name and date. The thesis read as follows:
“I’m tired of the show proposals that are themed. It either tries to influence what I create politically, or formally, and if I do not cow-tow, makes me ineligible. What a sham. Realize that when putting together a show, it should come from the quality side, and a narrative may be derived therefrom. Why would I go to a Batman show? Why would I go to a show all about ‘blue’? Why would I go to a show about specific injustices? Isn’t the outcome banal, prepackaged, manufactured? What kind of art show is that? We could use curious curators that are willing to fail, and respect the artists for what they make, and respect the intelligence of the audience, because we are not fooled. Thank you for the wine and cheese. -Kemeys Goethe”
I had a few conversations about it today. I’m glad I posted the statement, and that it was read. One out of the four were taken down. One got the word ‘really’ written onto it, which- not enough information.
I got some help logging into JSTOR today. I think I’m really going to relish having Friday mornings, because I can conduct business and research topics in the library and prepare etc.
A few good things my teacher EJ Hauser said yesterday: that when a work of art comes to you as alien, she calls it a ‘gift from the future’,
That when someone critiques your work they are really critiquing themselves.
And something about not trying to separate what goes on in the world from what goes on in the studio. . but my notes are inadequate.
We went through a slideshow of paintings, and it was funny to see the Malavich black square cracked to shit, and I told Madeline on the phone later that night about seeing it in the slide, and I’d seen it in person too, and how it’s falling apart, yet the Death Of Socrates is still rolling heavy. I took up monitor positions for two of my painting classes so far- it makes no difference to me to set up the rooms and take them down. I signed up again to monitor the Sunday four-hour painting sessions, which is a kind of painter’s insurance plan. This Saturday I hope to take a bike ride and make a few pleinair studies, after a figure painting session in the morning. I’ll take my ipad and well, heck maybe that’s it!
I loved the Hockney show.
I’m interested in teaching high schoolers in a PAFA after-school program. I’ll have a meeting with the head of our painting department, Al Gury, about it on Tuesday.
I dropped out of this class called avant-garde video with David Dempewolf, and though I should regret it, I don’t. It was the one class that represented a behemoth workload in unfamiliar territory. Maybe next year, hopefully next year. Instead, I picked up a class called Feminist Re-constructs, taught by my favorite teacher at PAFA, Emily Abendroth. I’ve been listening to lectures on post-modernism and identity politics, and I’m fatiguing from that after having gotten the gist, and will look forward to the literature and discussion that Emily is so excellent at bringing to the table.
I don’t know what’s happening with my roommate. I want to move out so that I can start saving money, but fear that it would be unethical, yikes. It pains me to live here.
