Painting

In my painting class there's some odd tension. I was talking to a girl I'm befriending in hall outside of the class and the teacher came over to us and asked how we thought the class was going. Which is kind of a loaded question. A lot of the students are very frustrated with the class, and it seems as though the teacher is getting a bit frustrated too. I think she drives a lot of the students nuts. I love her personally, she's exactly the type of free, real person that I love to learn from. Other people see it differently though. She drives some people completely batty. So we told her our varying views on the class, mostly positive with complaining about the physical space thrown in. The painting studio is pretty bad, really cluttered, too many easels and little rolling cabinets, too many people. And the air is hard to breath, lots of fumes. We told the teacher that a lot of the students in this class just don't seem to like each other, which is no one's fault, but can really affect things. Then the teacher left and my friend and I proceeded to get really catty about 2 student we happen to share... distaste for. It was great. Sometimes a girl needs to stop being nice for a while.

I find it interesting to see the attitudes that people come into this class with. There are the people who have painted before, who act like they're "real artists," above everyone else, even though their paintings look like like preschoolers did them. Then there's the fellow who has obviously painted a lot before, who really is an artist, but is taking the class to get what he can from it. He's completely humble, there's no ego involved, nothing to prove, he's just there to paint because he loves it. There are the people who act like the world owes them something, and sulk when they don't like the setup they're supposed to be painting. There are the people who come in like they know everything. And there are those who just have fun with it.

We did little pseudo-critiques in class today. Everyone put up their first three paintings and there was a little commentary time. I was amazed at the number of people who said things like, "I don't like black and white," or, "I don't like red," or yellow is an ugly color," "I hate pink," and on and on. People and the little walls they put up, their little boxes, are really interesting. I discovered magenta a few weeks ago. For the past few years I thought it was an ugly color. Then one night I was painting at home and I tried it, and was perfect and vibrant and alive and deep and completely amazing. I don't understand why anyone would want to limit themselves with something like color. Why hate a color? What could be more beautiful than color? Or more benign? Although it really isn't benign at all. It's rife with all sorts of symbolism and erotisism and subliminal, instinctual triggers. Life and color are intimately connected. So actually I guess it makes sense to hate colors, or be afraid of them, or have whatever type of relationship with them. But if you have the choice of hating life or loving it, playing with it or being afraid of it, why not have fun?