To really enjoy this Flashback College Tour we really must stop by my first drawing class. I have fond memories of that studio. It was the first college classroom I stepped into. My professor sported round, purple sunglasses despite the fact that we were meeting in the basement. He was awesomely bizarre; I still have a friend from this class and we lovingly refer back to him from time to time.
So, when I walked into this class imagine a girl who had JUST started down her path in art. Someone so focused on science and such that she had no training in drawing, or the ways of the art world… only a handful of high school art classes to prepare her for what was to come. And so I entered into this classroom basement: new college, new degree, new realm.
It was dark. A circle of white drawing desks enclosed a brown paper bag perched upon a column. It was glowing under spotlights. A friendly older man in purple sunglasses tells us to begin drawing. He laughs easily and I look around at everyone trying not to show my utter bewilderedness. I look at my paper and begin.
You can tangibly see my timidness. I look at this brown paper bag and see my strengths and weaknesses shouting out at me. I barely wanted to make a mark when it came to the bag, but look at those letters. Black. Confident.
We had our first class critique and I remember being embarrassed at the paleness of my bag when compared with the others. I promised myself I would become more bold in my marks. In good form my professor and classmates encouraged me to do the same, but boy did they rave about my letters.
As the class continued my marks did indeed become darker, although I will admit it is still is a struggle of mine. But I grew under my purple sunglass mentor and the rest of my peers. The man refused to be too serious about the subject and instead chose to foster growth in this much-afraid student.
Clothing in color.
Phrase project – mimicked from cutout magazine letters.
A wonderful experiment below : drawing a toy with pastels on tar paper. It has worn over the years in a very interesting way. :)
I’ve grown very nostalgic writing this post. I loved the start of art school. I was so scared and received nothing but encouragement during my first two years. I look back and realize how blessed I was by incredible, innovative, encouraging, invested professors.