Nothing gained, nothing lost
Without a doubt, this semester has been my worst. I’ve gone through enough stress, depression, and stupidity to nearly go insane. I only have one class this semester, I just need this class to graduate, and I was planning on making it a good one. Focus all my energy on this final class and leave the painting program as a champion. What a joke.
The other day, I heard from my friend, Hung, that the huge porno painting wasn’t chosen for the show after all. “I told Mark that we wouldn’t choose that piece. It’s pornographic, it’s –” My asshole teacher rambled for a bit. Then he ended with, “If that piece did make it in the show, we’d have to fix that immediately.” (In case you’re confused, I was late for the show’s deadline, so they rejected my painting. Skim through the first part of this for more info.)
To add insult to injury, Hung also found out that the painting they actually chose for the show was a small, worthless 6×4″ piece that I did over a year ago. The only reason it was on my wall was for random decoration. It was amongst posters, collages, and other haphazard things, and it didn’t occur to me that they would even consider that piece for the show.
What a fucking slap in the face. Basically, it means that my best piece, even better than my other labored paintings, even better than this beautiful portrait, is something that took me less than five minutes to paint. It means that I’ve degenerated, since they chose old work over all of my new pieces. If anything, it means that the painting that represents the culmination of all my work is a piece of shit no bigger than a DVD case.
I guess me being rejected from the show was a blessing in disguise. I can’t even imagine how embarrassed I’d be had I found out that my large piece was removed from the gallery space, and that in its place they wanted something so worthless. I’ve been through so much shit in these past few months. I can’t help but think that my professors are setting me up for failure.
Definitely, this semester has been my worst. It’s left a lasting impression on me. Now, when I think of the block studios, I’ll think of an unfriendly place. I’ll think of sickness and failure. When I think of the names Gael and Aaron, I’ll think of an old relic that refuses to die, and of a weasel of a man that hated and tortured me for no reason.
At least throughout the turmoil, I’ve gotten so much stronger in so many ways. Whatever doesn’t kill you, I guess. I just wish it didn’t have to come to this. I feel like a broken man. I’ve been so angry lately, so hateful and so spiteful. It’s just a couple more days until it’s all over. I’ve been dreading critique, knowing that another slaughter awaits me. But now I welcome it. I’m ready to fight, ready to die. This time, let’s see if I can make a lasting impression on them.
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