make art, not war

I signed up for a painting class at merritt college this semester: beginning painting with oils and acrylics, one night a week. I've wanted to take a painting class for a long time and this seemed perfect.

class started last week. it was just what I was hoping it would be: an eclectic small crowd of students, a lovely teacher who’s a local artist and loves teaching art in her spare time, and a nice large art studio with good lighting and ventilation, walls covered in past students’ work, art supplies crammed on counters and shoved in cubbies, and a cluster of paint-splattered easels that sometimes collapse without warning. ahh, perfect.

unfortunately, I got the sad phone call from my teacher yesterday that the class was cancelled due to low enrollment. my beloved art class cancelled! but I’m supposed to paint! I must paint! I moped about it a little and then decided to try adding another section at another campus. sure enough, berkeley city college offers the same class on the same night, which is tonight.

before I describe tonight, let me just describe the original class: it was very simple. you'd show up and paint. we were to spend 3 or 4 weeks doing a still life using oils, another 3 or 4 weeks doing a landscape with acrylics, and finish up the semester with a portrait, oils or acrylics-student preference, all the while learning basic sketching and painting techniques. oh, and we learned a new vocabulary word that first night: chiaroscuro.

now join me at the new class:
I arrive early. I try to not be put off by the small studio lacking all the character of the other studio. it’s too new. it’s too small. it’s too stuffy. new agey music is playing in the background. I explain to the instructor that my section has been cancelled and I’d like to add hers. beginning painting? no problem, she says, but it’s acrylics only. that’s fine, I say, somewhat disappointed. I tell her I even came with the supplies I was supposed to bring this week for my original class, with the idea that she’d be on the same sort of schedule with her class. great, she says.

I feel so prepared. in my old class, we were going to spend tonight sketching the still life so we could start painting next week. so there I am at bcc, armed with my stretched canvas, vine charcoal, pencil, kneaded eraser and knowledge of chiaroscuro. the creative, idealistic glow within me is returning. then the new teacher hands me a pile of papers. handouts, she says. oh my, I think, what a lot of paper.

syllabus, survey, materials list, detailed outline for the next few classes, and our reading assignment: an article on early cave art or something. I start flipping through the syllabus and see that I’m already missing the first homework assignment due tonight. (wait, there’s homework?? but it’s a painting class.) I see the list of materials I needed for tonight-paints, specific brushes, a sketchbook, apron, canvas panels, palette. but I don’t have any of those things! my trusty sketching tools are useless.

then the teacher tells me we’ll be starting out in groups to discuss the cave art article and the homework assignment. should I try to skim the journal article? it’s like 12 pages long. I have 5 minutes. and she needs me to complete a survey asking about my artistic aspirations, the artists and styles that influence me most, my preferred art media, my relevant art experience. what?

forget the article, I decide. and forget the survey. I’m new. I shouldn’t be responsible for these things. I focus on the syllabus. it’s the most comprehensive syllabus I’ve ever seen: goals, rules, academic calendar, point system, grading, class schedule, outlines of class meetings, assignments, materials, a discourse on where and how to look for creative inspiration, on and on and on. words, words, words. please just teach me to paint!

we must keep a sketchbook journal and complete reading assignments. we must review lecture topics in small group discussions. we must write papers on art techniques and genres. we must turn in a portfolio of our work. we must give presentations. we must complete additional paintings outside class. we must not miss more than 2 classes or we fail.

but when do we learn to paint?? a feeling of panic starts rising in me. this isn’t what I want. please just teach me how to hold a brush. show me how to create different textures. help me mix colors. teach me to paint with perspective. help me paint that masterpiece bowl of fruit I’ve been envisioning all week!

I can see that there will be no bowl of fruit. my mind is swirling with assignments and points and rules and structure. words, words, words. all those words on all those papers. I can’t find any room for creativity. the teacher is about to start class. I quietly and quickly gather my things. I go up to her desk and hand back the mound of papers. I’m sorry, I say, but this isn’t the right class for me.

so here I am at home. no more painting class. maybe next semester it will fly. in the meantime, I still have my thursday evenings reserved for painting...and I have paints. and brushes. and canvasses, charcoal, fixative, good lighting, even a table easel. and an apartment full of inanimate objects...

I think I’ll start sketching that still life...