I wonder if art school students realize that their time at the university is the easiest and most relaxed time they will have as an artist? Looking back, it surely was for me. In those days having a BFA and then MFA was a big deal. We were all full of ourselves. We wore black and hung around in bars and cafe’s, pretending we were the new generation of “cool” artists. We considered ourselves to be existentialists, having no idea what that meant. We stayed up all night in the studios at school with coolers of beer, painting atrocious huge paintings. We pulled lots of pranks and lived in terror of our professors’ critiques. In those days, art school was a game of tearing students apart with vicious critiques by professors. They took no prisoners. Lots of students dropped out due to the abuse. I was always pretty tough, so I hung in and thrived. I’ve always gone my own way as an artist, caring little about what others are painting or what is popular. I think that is why I have survived all these years. That, and a lot of hard work. For a long time after art school I felt as if I had PTSD from the experience. With some maturity, I realize that it made me strong enough to work hard and accept my own voice as a painter.
What are your stories?