It took me three tries to correctly spell discuss. I hate sleep deprivation. COFFEE DOESN’T HELP! AH!
On a non-related note before we begin: today I was made a moderator on a forum I’m on, which is pretty dang exciting for me. I’ve wanted to be a moderator for ages, and now I am! 😀
One day I will stop using GIFs in all my posts. That day is not today.
Anyway, I am finally finally finally going to begin THE ART CAMP SAGA: the exciting tell-all from none other than yours truly.
I had an incredible experience at art camp. I never really considered myself an artist before last week – like, I could draw passably, but it wasn’t something I ever thought I would pursue or be really good at. But art camp changed me: it showed me how art isn’t just drawing a picture. It’s sending a message, sharing a point of view, trying to say something without physically saying anything.
The metaphysical aside, I’m going to quickly recap the first two days. I checked in and was given my dorm key and went to go dump my luggage. My dorm was on the third floor.
Look, I’m not trying to sound fat/lazy/whatever (who does?), but going up and down three flights of stairs numerous times on a daily basis is not an enjoyable experience. Ever. (And then on Wednesday some bozos from the tech camp broke the elevator in the art building as well, so we had to take the stairs there too, not to mention the miles of walking we did every day because the art building was obscenely far away from the dorms/cafeteria.)
I was initially put in a two room dorm, and my roommate was a nice girl we’ll just nickname K because I’m too lazy to nickname all these people. K wasn’t 11 – but she was 13. Me being older than everyone was a trend that continued throughout the entire week – a lot of the girls looked like they were 16 or 17 and then ended up being 13 and I felt stupid. Maybe it’s because they wore a lot of makeup and discussed rather mature subject material. I dunno. I’ll always be a sheltered, Catholic homeschooler. I like it that way, honestly.
K and I stuck together for breakfast on the first day, and I reached out to a girl named S, who ended up being rather a difficult person and I’m sort of glad our friendship didn’t work out (as awful as that sounds). In our first class, our teacher, Miss Pam (who was completely insane – I love her) told us about watercolors and acrylics and oils and cavorting ghosts and fruit people, etc. In that class I met OtherK and both Ms. (M and OtherM. Watch this get confusing.)
Another person I met on the first day was A, a girl who – on the surface – seemed nice. She got up and got water for everyone’s brushes at the beginning of class and she seemed generous and polite. But all it took was one teacher asking her to turn off her phone for the façade to drop. She was rude, mean, and shallow. She would say or do nice things to try and manipulate you. If you accidentally crossed her (like, I jumped up to grab the door when she wanted to, or something ridiculously stupid), she badmouthed you the whole time you were out of earshot. Her cronies, G & B, were even worse. Like, vapidity incarnate.
It was awful.
This is me being mean again, but I’d have to say that I enjoyed art camp, DESPITE the other campers. Even the girls who called themselves my friends weren’t people I found friendly or pleasant. Every day I found myself wanting more and more to ditch everyone and stay by myself in a corner of the cafeteria and art room, not speaking, just being alone.
It also prompted this:
Turns out being in emotional turmoil actually helped me produce decent art. I’d have to say that’s what I really learned this week – how to channel my messed up crazy insides and show them on a canvas or in a sketchbook or through a spray painted stencil. And that’s really going to stick with me. Art is a voice – one of many that I am blessed to have. I have something to say and, now, a new way to say it. That’s incredible.
Stay tuned for part 2 of the art camp saga – I’ll probably post photos of some actual artwork, so it should be good. 😉