This year has been a complete roller coaster. Now that I am (nearly) done with my first year of grad school, I am more confused than ever and need to sort out some thoughts. I admit, though, that this year has been a hell of a lot of fun… but it’s also just been hell.
Last semester flew by. I moved to Richmond in June and only a couple of weeks after I settled in, my “adviser” emailed me and asked me to meet him so that we could start preparing for my seminar topic, and so that I can prepare for my Arabic exam. My immediate reaction was, “who the hell is this guy?! Classes don’t start for another month, and anyways, I’m not taking Arabic.” Anyways, I met with him a couple of times and each time was somehow actually worse than the previous one. Consistently. He was tough, and he wanted me to study something that I had absolutely ZERO interest in whatsoever: The Tuscan Order. I didn’t even want to work with him, except for the fact that I did my undergrad thesis on a Tiffany lamp, and this professor was supposedly the dec arts expert. He was miserable though, and every single time I left his office, I sobbed. One time I actually cried IN his office… so embarrassing.
I vented to Ron a lot at that point, and he told me something that has stuck with me ever since: “You’re only going to school for you.” So I ditched that professor.
That same semester, me and a few other students got drunk with the chair of my program. A terrible embarrassment. Not for me, but for the chair. At least, he ought to have been embarrassed, as trashed as he got.
My classes were tough but great, and I learned more in one semester of grad school than I had throughout most of my undergrad career. Fastforward to this past semester, and I can say the same thing again. Fortunately, this semester I also found a professor with whom I really, REALLY wanted to work. I “proposed” to her and she accepted, so she is now officially my thesis/everything-else adviser. The awkward (and awesome) thing is that this is her first year teaching graduate courses. I basically have to tell her what she’s supposed to assign me, etc. It’s weird but it’s also great because she’s open to new ideas, eager to learn, and - most importantly - not too busy for me, since so far I’m her only student :) She taught an “animal in art and theory” course this semester and it has literally changed my life. Not drastically of course, but in little ways, it has infiltrated how I think about the world. My seminar paper for this class is going to be the rough draft for my MA thesis, which is great… the paper was 24 pages long, I have a thorough bibliography already in place, and I know my artist inside and out. Not only will this make my thesis easier to write, but it will also make it much more enjoyable.
This semester I also went on a travel class with one of the top professors in my program (and, quite honestly, in the field). The course was about Marcel Duchamp, one of my favorite artists. The trip was… exhausting. But the fact that Ron came it along made it totally worth it. (Although the poor guy was bored out of his mind.)
The class started in Philadelphia. Ron and I drove up a day early since we were staying in Princeton, NJ with my brother and his family. We had fun spending time with them… ate a lot of food, talked, laughed, caught up on stuff, played with my niece and nephew, etc. Kenz and Andrew even gave up their room for me and Ron - we each got a brightly decorate twin-sized bed to ourselves, complete with stuffed animals, Star Wars toys, and hot-pink leopard print sheets :P
The first day in Philadelphia lasted from the time the PMA opened until the minute that it closed. All of the students presented gallery talks about selected works of art, and my professor gave brilliant tours throughout the 20th and 21st century collections. I got to see works of art that I had only seen in textbooks and that, inevitably, looked NOTHING LIKE what I imagined they would in real life. Most of them are either bigger, smaller, brighter, darker, etc. than what the reproductions make them out to be.
Also, on a very weird note, that entire wing of the museum smelled like a vagina. It was really, really…. gross.
That night Ron and I walked around Philadelphia for a bit and had dinner at a neat little restaurant with literally the BEST veggie burger I have ever had. It was homemade and sooo fresh that I could actually taste the individual vegetables in the patty. I realllly wanna go back, ASAP!
We did the same thing all over again the next day - stayed at the PMA open to close. I was stoked about going to Philadelphia, but other than the modern art wing of the Philadelphia Museum of Art, I still haven’t really seen much of the city. Guess I’ll have to go again!
On the third day we drove to New Haven, CT (Yale University). The university art gallery was incredible - not only in terms of the items in the collection, but also the layout. This university gallery was nicer than some high-end art museums I have been to. (I guess that’s cause it’s Yale.) After a long day of class discussions and storage visits, I *thought* my professor was going to let us go, but instead he insisted that we go to a bar/lounge at a nearby hotel to discuss some of our assigned readings. We were there for about 2 hours until he started losing his voice. Ron stayed in the car napping and watching Netflix on his phone during that time… I was so jealous! When we finally finished up, Ron and I walked around New Haven for a bit, got some Thai for dinner, and then drove down to Greenwich, CT. Class was held there the next day at the Brant Art Foundation. Contemporary artist David Altmejd had a show there and, although I actually know very little about contemporary art, I was so impressed! He is definitely an artist that I want to see more of… although, in hindsight, I’ve noticed that pictures of his art online do absolutely no justice to his works in person.
That afternoon we drove from Greenwich, CT up to Yonkers, NY to check into our hotel (which, by the way, was awesome!! Thanks babe.) We had just enough time to unload our stuff and catch the train into the city. Then we caught a subway from the Bronx into Manhattan, had a few minutes to grab an AMAZING falafel sandwich from a food cart, and then met up with the class at a contemporary Asian gallery. After that, we basically “gallery hopped” for the rest of the day. We took the train back to Yonkers, picked up some Applebees to go (since it was really the only place next to our hotel other than Dunkin Donuts) and went to bed early.
Next day we had to meet at the MoMA bright and early. After another hour-long train ride, we walked around some of the galleries before the museum opened to the public. (That was very cool, because I can’t stand people, and the MoMA is ALWAYS crazy busy.) Afterwards, we had some time to check out the Cindy Sherman Retro and then go have lunch. We had a couple of hours to ourselves before we had to meet in Chelsea, but that really only gave us enough time to eat and catch the subway since it was - sadly - St. Patrick’s Day. Fighting through the parade was awful! Never have I ever seen so much green.
We did more gallery hopping in Chelsea and I was SO burnt out. Poor Ron. Poor, poor Ron. That’s all I can say. Poor guy was miserable and so was I. We all were, I think. I mean we did a semester’s worth of work in six days. We were freakin exhausted. We had walked so much my feet were literally numb and I really could not care less about art at that point. But we just kept going and going until FINALLY we thought we were done, but our professor wanted us to go up to his place to talk some more. Part of me really wanted to ditch the class and hope he wouldn’t notice, but I can never pass up a visit to his home. His house in Richmond is absolutely gorgeous, he always has great food and, of course, since he is a renowned art historian and curator and his wife is a successful collector/dealer, they have SO MUCH incredible art. So we went. His home in Chelsea is just as great as his place back in Richmond. Sometimes I lay awake at night and imagine what it’s like to be them. Their lives are so cool. And they are so, so wealthy. They could probably both stop working tomorrow, sell all of their art, and just live the rest of their lives off the profit. *Sigh*
Anyways… after we left their place, Ron and I had to take the subway from Chelsea back to Manhattan, and then the train from Grand Central back to Yonkers. People were loud, drunk, and obnoxious, and I was starving, tired, and cranky. We got back into Yonkers late and called the hotel for the shuttle to come get us. Apparently the person had already left. Ron and I had to walk from the station back to the hotel which was only a couple of miles but it was so late and we were already so exhausted that I felt like forever. Not to mention we literally had to walk uphill most of the way. So when we finally got back to the hotel we decided to just go get some Wendy’s. It wasn’t supposed to be that far but it ended up taking us 20 minutes to get there. ALL I wanted was an effing sweet tea. But I was also starving so I got a cheesy backed potato and a salad.
Shoulda checked the food before we drove back.
We get to the hotel, open up the bag, and I was crushed. My potato had no cheese, butter, sour cream, or anything. My salad had no dressing. My tea. My teaaaa. My sweet tea… was nestea. WHAT THE FUCK WENDY’S?! NESTEA? Who would DO such a thing? Twas a shitty ending to a longggg day. But sleep never felt so good, and the next day Ron brought me breakfast while I was getting ready. We had until 3pm to get from Yonkers, NY to D.C. The drive wasn’t bad and we had some time to spare. We ended up driving to Alexandria, eating lunch, and taking the metro into the city. The class met up at a home near Dupont circle. The couple that lived there are apparently some very, very, VERY VERY wealthy art collectors. I thought my professor’s collection was impressive (and it is - the dude has a Donald Judd in his bathroom) but this… this was beyond real. We spent a couple of hours at this home and they gave us a tour of their house. In addition to some incredible contemporary artists that I was not initially familiar with, they also owned works by Duchamp, Lorna Simpson, Donald Judd, Andy Warhol, Ana Mendieta, Carl Andre, Cindy Sherman, Eva Hesse, Joseph Kosuth, Sherrie Levine, and soooo many others. We were there for hours going through their home.
Afterwards, it was such a gorgeous day that Ron and I decided to walk around for a bit. We ate at what was probably the best Greek restaurant I’ve ever been to before driving back to Richmond. I have never been so happy to be back in my little one room apartment.
(Although, let me add — I didn’t know it at the time but I actually got a $125 speeding ticket on the way back to RVA… those damn photo enforcers.)
So that was that. After the spring break trip, the semester really flew by. My final paper for that class was due the following week and ever since then I’ve been non-stop reading, researching, and writing for my other classes. I only have about 3 pages to go on my German art paper and then I’m done. (That’s nothing, so I’m gonna put it off for a bit.)
GOODNESS GRACIOUS I JUST WANT TO SLEEP.
First I have to learn German.
Then my advisor says I can do French instead of German.
Then she says I have to do French and German.
Whyyyyyyyyyy???? The only up side is that after all of this is over, I’ll have 4 foreign languages on my resume. (Because I have nothing else to do, right?)
(Source: caturday)
And I kind of can’t believe I’ve made it this far!
I’m either getting smarter, or I’m getting better at faking it.
Ron this weekend. <3 Two weekends in a row!
Untitled (You Are Not Yourself) - Barbara Kruger, 1981
From the Metropolitan Museum of Art:
Kruger first showed her large-scale photomontages in an exhibition at Annina Nosei Gallery in 1981 entitled Public Address. Appropriating generic-looking images from old camera annuals and magazines, the artist overlaid them with bold, declarative statements in bold-faced type that resembled political agit-prop or perhaps ransom letters. Kruger’s phrasing was as deft and multivalent as her images were propulsive and direct, and the red enameled frames she sealed them in were like a kiss before a knockout punch. Despite their seeming simplicity, however, the artist was playing complex games with the way that images normally include or exclude segments of the audience, and bringing to the forefront the kinds of power plays that underlie all forms of communication.
