Another semester is history. This was my last figure drawing, a ten minute pose. We had spent the previous two hours fifty minutes meticulously working on head/hands/feet studies, so I was tired and irritable and just wanted to get home for some homemade chili, so I just made big gashes of charcoal on the paper, not really thinking. And wouldn't you know it, that is exactly what is necessary to get a dynamic image like this one. Yesterday I met with the teacher for final portfolio review. Now, these last four and a half months, he stopped by my horse to pick at something that was wrong. The most complimentary he became was the couple of times he told me to stop, it was just fine as it was. But yesterday, he said I had done extraordinary work, eloquent work, artful work. You know, I knew that. I felt the shift that happens midterm, when it got easier and fell into place, when my decisions all seemed right on. But I couldn't exalt until HE thought so, too. I don't think this is different from most artists. You're nobody till somebody loves your work, too. Pity.
1 comment:
funny I feel the same way. I went back to school in 2006 at the age of 53. I was sure I would be fine if no one liked my art. But gosh I did want approval. And now that I am out..it is tough not having that network and group of teachers and students who supported me!
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