Allow me to begin by bragging. I simply can not BELIEVE my luck with my new job. Essentially, I get paid to craft all day. No joke. Upon my punching the time clock, the manager handed me a stack of old Hanukkah cards and instructed me to make something out of them. Girl, get your craft on.
I made adorable book marks that are perfect for your Jewish friends this holiday season. Check.
Next she pointed to a stack of DIY placecards and told me to create a display for them. I spent the next 3 hours happily playing with ribbon, paper, and glue while I set up a Thanksgiving table. Check.
How jealous are you?
Ok but before you get too excited, let me tell you about:
WHAT ART SCHOOL DOES TO YOUR BRILLIANT IDEAS
So with all my studious research on Borderline Personality Disorder and its roots in Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, and the insanely interesting biochemistry of it all, I had finally come up with an idea. More like the idea happened TO me.
My mind's eye saw a large table full of open ceramic boxes, various sizes and heights, each compartmentalized in a different way. Yes, just like the brain compartmentalizes information, traumas, situations, events, memories. Each compartment was to be representative of a symptom or diagnostic criteria of either BPD or PTSD by either filling it or writing in it or etc. Smack dab in the middle of this span of boxes there was to be an erect double helix, decayed and fraying.
The piece was to be called 'Diagnosis: Runs In The Family'.
Now, isn't that positively genius? Yes. YES.
I began working feverishly. I needed to complete this piece and I needed to get it done by finals in December. I kneaded clay, put the slab roller to work, assembled these boxes as best I could.
My ceramics teacher said no. No. There wasn't enough clay to go around, and there's not enough room in the kiln for my ambitious project and the work of other students. WTF.
So, I've been reduced to ONE PIECE. ONE ELEMENT of this installation. I am utterly disappointed. It feels so 'measely'. I can't even explain. It will never be what it could have been. The meaning behind the piece is lost. LOST.
So last night I bought a stack of wedding magazines and proceeded to plan imaginary weddings for my all my friends (single or not). I felt a little better.
Fuck school and their imposing limitations.
Today I'll be at work, crafting, for 8 hours, then I plan to come home and sit cross-legged on my tiny couch and watch the 1952 version of The Importance of Being Earnest. Hmph!
current mood: defiant, disappointed.
current music: the yeah yeah yeahs - art star.