I've decided that my teachers are cruel and evil people... mainly because I'm not adept to reading their whims just yet. It's not all my teachers, but the ones that want an extremely conceptual body of work...

Case one: Douglas Bothner.

The guy is cute, but like Sonny said: "I think he's learning more from us than we from him." He uses art terminology and concepts that even I have never heard of and insists that he's grading us on our personal development when really he wants to dissect our every move. In theory, this is a good thing because bullshitters are quickly sifted from the group; in practice, it lets room for the truly gifted liars to blossom. Fuck.

And this is one of those instances where talking to the teacher hurts your grade as much as it helps. I'm still getting used to shifting my concentration from the product to the process (especially since I have to shift back to the latter for my other classes), so getting any outside redirection is automatically detrimental. On the other side of the coin, he's a consummate modernist and wants us to edit out images until we find the perfect one to display our precise meaning, which is something I don't do because my work is definitely more illustrative.

It would help if I actually learned something from his class, but his methodologies are forcing my own to become unstable... until I hit my graphic design class, where I reach a middle ground (and that's where I flourish... sorta)... but then I swing to the opposite side with my drawing class. The weekend comes as a (supposed) respite, and then it's back to Bothner's class. But backtracking to that drawing class...

Case two: Leslie Hirst.

... You know what, I'm sick of ranting. She can wait another day.