So I’ve got to write a follow up post since last night. I am now in the spring semester at PAFA- today was the first day of classes. In the morning I still thought about Madeline quite a lot. I understand that as the semester picks up again, I will become progressively more involved with my work, and naturally things will fall by the wayside. This is kid of like the kernel though of what perpetuates thoughts of it-could-work-itude. The only kind of relationship I could have is a delightfully spotty one, even the sad times would be a delight so long as they occurred in concentrations, like a painting. A teacher today put words to something I have been having trouble explaining; it is a choice to finish a painting. I don’t finish a lot of things; they are more powerful that way, and in another essay I described ‘more leverageable’. This goes behind engagements like a snake in the grass, but we can hope that we’ve grown to love even the snake, for it did not choose it’s nature.
Flakes and snakes get a bad wrap. C’est la vie. People are people.
Thomas Hart Benton’s wife was quoted as saying that no American woman could be married to Thomas Hart Benton. That’s what I’m talking about.
A friend of mine, Karolyn Hatton wrote “The palpable sense of yearning lingers in the air. The romance is in this suspension. As in the elliptical twangy love songs of country musician Gram Parsons. . . Melancholy and the endless deferment of pleasure are not only themselves enjoyable but are in fact the site of pleasure and love. We understand that whether it is at the river’s edge, or on the roof, or beside the pool, what keeps the couple apart is also what keeps them together, always.”
Eric Hoffer says, “All day I resisted the impulse to get in touch with Lili. Once I do this I shall have an alibi for not doing anything.”
And “fair play with others is primarily the practice of not blaming them for anything that is wrong with us. We tend to rub our guilty conscience against others the way we wipe dirty fingers on a rag. This is as evil a misuse of others as the practice of exploitation.”
And, “how hard it is to know what is really happening to us. With the propaganda of the “I” pervading every cell of our being, we cannot see clearly the true reason for what we do or do not do.”
I thought I wanted to quote something other from Eric Hoffer, but it alludes my searches, and these above ring to me.
Okay something from Anaïs Nin, “She worshiped him passionately but as she grew older the form of his image grew blurred. But she had not lost him. His image was buried deep in the most mysterious region of her being. On the surface there remained the image created by her mother- his egoism, his neglectfulness, his irresponsibility, his love of luxury. When for a time her immense yearning appeared to have exhausted itself, when it seemed that she had almost forgotten this man whom her mother described so bitterly, it was only the announcement of the fact that his image had become fluid; it ran in subterranean channels, through her blood. Consciously she was no longer aware of him; but in another way his existence was even stronger than before. Submerged, yet magically ineffaceable, he floated in her blood.”
I guess I wanted to share these things I’m reading. I’ve had a good blend recently, and have read myself into corners in each of them. What’s more, many strong recommendations abound, with incentives in what conversations tentatively await! On the plane back to Florida I sat next to a woman who asked, “What at you going to do once you graduate?”, and I knew, and I exclaimed “I’m going to read!” She liked that.
I had a painting class in the morning. The teacher gave a demo and I thought a milieu of thoughts about how so the person was no Velasquez, so to speak. I saw through critical eyes, and I don’t think I’m wrong. Still, the painting teacher not only pulled it around but upon concluding the demo it was clear that what was demonstrated was for us first and foremost, and that I did in fact learn a lot from watching and listening. I am under this teachers wing, and the crux as to whether to bite or beef is palpable, and that’s how it seems to have to be played; like with my dad, he’s an independent guy, and it’s bite or beef. He and my teacher have the same zodiac sign, and I understand that I will pour trust into it and hold onto my butt and it should be fine.
Another painting class in the afternoon was lecture-based today. It qualifies as high-altitude stuff. One funny thing happened in class. The teacher, to preface, is fifty, and spoke to shaking the chains of PAFA off, (and she graduated from PAFA too), and take risks, etc. The teacher spoke from the understanding that an education at PAFA was one of firm traditional footing, which is the case, and something to run from thereafter if you are to be relevant. The class is called ‘Painting’. One student asked about doing videos instead, and the teacher tried to be diplomatic and said, “Well, this might not be the right class for you, because I teach painting.”, then another student asked about doing collage, and it’s like god dammit. Teacher was cool and said, look, there’s talk of developing your style etc. and maybe you’re the collage person, but I encourage you to use the materials of the class, because they’re built in to each assignment, and that’s wherefrom the power of the class comes. So basically the teacher underestimated how liberal and circus-like even the oldest painting school in the country has become. It was funny because the teacher has worked hard to shake her shackles, and the students basically never got shackled, and they kind of trolled. I am most excited for this class.
