Everything is relative. My philosophy teachers in college made sure I understood that. Like if I receive a D grade –it is not an isolated random act of hatred on their part but because I turned in a crappy paper because I was too lazy to read a two page-article that I know is hard enough that I would need three days to digest it, but dumbly skimmed it in three hours hoping for a strike of genius to hit me square in the forehead while my eyes glazed over the words used in sentences I cannot, for the life of me, figure the meaning out. Ha! I wonder what hallucinogenic drugs these people were taking that made them write such effin convoluted articles.
I remember my teacher saying the only excuse he’ll accept for crappy papers would be a death in the family. This made me review the living members of my ancestral tree. It would be unfortunate if I have to kill the clan to pass this subject. hmmm…or as Queen Tilli would say, Oh-Oh Spaghetti oh!
If you are not acquainted with Queen Tilli, she is this naïve European queen that loves opera and thinks cocaine is medicine for snuffles because you have to snort it. She is a Tom Robbin character in the book “Still life with Woodpecker”, a post-modern love story of an environmental princess and an outlaw who loves to dynamite everything that represents structure.
If the woodpecker had known that I have recently put structure in my life by going back to school, he’d be here in Hong Kong in no time to confront me why I’d given up my endless wandering in the mountains to be in this cold area where the beach has no sand and the sun has no warmth. Winter classes have its drawbacks.
Well, art school is artsy enough to produce warmth for the soul. And if that is not enough, the studio on the second floor of the magistrate building has studio lights that have two thousand watt bulbs to scare the cold away. The arts, like philosophy, have its own hand-painted hallucinations that you have to squint and play the eye game to see certain realities. But unlike philosophy, art is artsy enough that any mistakes you make can be easily forgiven as long as you know how to present it with conviction. But then again, I have only been taking art classes for two weeks. For all I know, art school might be a pond trapped in masculine ethics where its façade is brighter and stronger that what it has to offer…I do not mean to be sexist, but where I came from, it is the men who usually huff and puff but not necessarily the one to blow piggy’s house away. Of course, us, women, have our own share of superficialiaties…but I wouldn’t delve into that.
Everything is relative. And all I do now will certainly affect my future as a photographer– as an artist…I think BWL and my four little chipmunks will be proud of me. Hello art school. Hello future.