Okay, having reviewed my sculpture, it’s not that good. I mentioned that I hardly looked at the thing while I was sculpting it. That’s true. Also, the lines drawn onto the surface were easily modified back into a surface texture that made sense. My sculpture had a ton of heart. I woke in the middle of the night from dreaming (NIGHTMARING) about it. It’s consumed me for the past three days.

The judge made his conclusions based on academic sculpting. I’d take mine over the others any day. Um.. but I would like to know the academic stuff. This has helped by bringing up something again- what I run into. I mean, first off, I am a kind of hack. My roommate had gone to art highschool, and has been at it (though my skepticisms lie in to what capacity) for about as long but with different focuses. He’s younger, and I try to be careful not to digress into ageism. He’s actually really good. I don’t mean to sound like a journaler from the turn of the nineteenth century England, but sometimes I think I do; that’s a digression but if you’re ever pained by my false-d pining into a blog site; endlessly ironic and cliche, so am I. I’ll say again I write this thing on a public stage, so you can share my sentiments. Eric Hoffer said that there’s something about the moderately boring that bring out those brilliant thoughts (maybe I lost the competition to a moderately boring piece!). I hope this can tickle your intellect in that moderately boring way. I want to bring light. Full disclosure; I like artists like Gauguin, Van Gogh, Tintoretto, Bla blah, the infamous. Gauguin was funny by the extent which he excitedly waited by the letterbox in Tahiti to hear whether his infamy had matured, whether he had made sales, or news, and as to wether it would be a good time to make his grand entrance back! What a diva!!

I’m super blessed that I’m around people that can tolerate me. I’m super blessed that I can be in the northeast, with terribly capable people. Ps. My homeland is of no salable novelty. What have we got; gators and bath salts man.

I’m super stoked to be in the big leagues of art colleges. I think PAFA’s the best, and what arrogance I bring with me is my mistake alone.

See how good I’m getting?

I want to write a little about the walls I keep hitting, and the things I’m good at.

I’m good at drawing. Seeing and putting it down; and I’m not talking about seeing a rib cage and drawing an ellipse bc fuck that. I’m good at value, and color. A teacher told me I have perfect pitch, ie I can mix the perfect relative color for a painting. I’ve painted a lot. I may be approaching that silly ten thousand hour mark in both drawing and painting, and I’m probably closer in drawing. I’ve done rough calculations, and I’m close-ish in drawing as of two years ago. Um . . I’m not good at anatomy- not really. I can draw maybe half of what’s topically visible, and that’s pretty poor. What’s more is my sensibilities to anatomy spacialy. This is why I lost the sculpture competition, for one. I made an entire sculpture off of silhouette matching. It looks like a Stephen Balkenhol sculpture, which I love. It looks like a chainsaw art sculpture, which I still love. I run into this problem/non-problem sometimes. the fact is if you can do it then you can choose to do it or not do it. But if you can’t do it, then you can only not do it. I mean, duh, but, that’s the wager, and while in school, especially an academic training school, it might be a great time to learn to do it- so rather than try to look smart with teachers that talk about my perfect pitch (this guy’s also an awesome awesome teacher), I’m thinking I’ll take some sculptural anatomy courses forthcoming.