10.28.2004
 
Crisis point reached circa 11am today: I am pathetic when it comes to computers.

No, really. My classmates are progressing quite nicely in their own styles and whatnot, but I appear to be stagnating at best.

Fucking a, the catharsis I felt from the Green Day and Sugarcult concert has now been completely obliviated. I just... GAAAH!

I haven't done so badly in a class since... well, forever.

Panicking. Now officially panicking.

. . . . . posted:||8:20 AM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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10.16.2004
 

This thing is going back to being my annoyingly ranty space so... you have been warned. (For those who want more mundane thoughts, head on over to ye olde LJ.)

Ever since I've come here, I've barely made anything for myself that doesn't end up in a critique in one of my classes. That's just unhealthy-especially if I need to cultivate my creativity to better serve it's purposes.

The thing is, everywhere I go my work is being criticized. Classes go without saying, and as the law of art class demands, I cater my work to the tastes of the teacher. But still, when I'm working with a few friends on a piece (we have group work-time (not to be confused with group-work time) to keep eachother sane from working on their pieces by themselves), I will show some of them a thumbnail or even a halfway-finished piece and they'll say: "no, I don't like this direction at all."

Mainly it's Marina and Ryan who say that. Ryan-the boy who bullshits everything he says because, outside of comics, he knows extremely little about everything-makes it a point of his to pick out every flaw in my design. Marina (a Russian ex-patriate) thinks that my work is too repressed and that I should work in "free" media all the time... while she comes running to me for help on her painting stuff...

Honestly, I can take the condescending remarks from my teachers, but I seldom ever expected it from my friends.

Reached another crisis point during Drawing II where, ironically, my piece about my decided decline in self-esteem was shot down and ripped apart. Fuck, I didn't hear one compliment about the piece until after class (after I explained what it means).

I also hate the fact that everything I put severe time into is deemed mediocre while something I've worked half an hour on is praised as genius. Fuck. You.

Doug mentioned that my work seemed conceptually restrained and that I should learn to free myself up more, but I can't because I am afraid: I'm afraid that I'm not really an artist in any respect, I'm afraid that my concept will turn into complete bullshit, I'm afraid that my preconcieved notions of myself is incorrect.

Fuck, half of the reason why I haven't done anything for myself is because I'm afraid that I'll do it and absolutely hate it.

. . . . . posted:||7:50 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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