My art class is a family. There are the simple, highly talented asians. There are the two highly competitive fashionistas from different cliques going at it (arty drug-free geek vs. cool popular blonde). There are the three boys with crazy intelligent minds who like color. There are the girls who just like things pretty, and it's obvious.

And then there's this one kid.
He's the most socially awkward INARTICULATE, sweet kid I've ever met. I think it's amazing that he's really into art - lucky - because this kid looks like he should be dealing crack.

We'll be making comments on paintings, and someone will say, "I like the symbolism of your red sheet," and then he'll get called on and say, "It's really tight." He's got so much emotion behind it though, I want to be his words. He only has good intentions.

I like the enviornment, even though daily I'm being reminded that I'm not really an artist. I'm not good at it.

I think the medium is incomplete. I mean, an amazing book is going to have much more effect on my brain than an amazing painting.

Missed anything?
livejournal - 2005-03-02
romantic love - 2005-03-02
caitlin and i - 2005-02-28
the backyard - 2005-02-28
together - 2005-02-27