Art School Hell

I think complex creative blocks can begin in simple ways. 

My greatest block began on my first day of Art college. The Instructor stands in the center of our easel-filled class, stares us all down, carefully picks up a piece of paper, crumples it into a ball, and tosses it on the floor.  He takes a drag of his cigarette, adjusts his sunglasses, and says "draw this paper until lunch time."  

The next few hours were harrowing-- the sense of having to get it right, having to include every  detail of the ball of paper right. I was in the middle of a class of illustrators and artists from all over the world, and my drawing skills were decent, but not Rembrandt-level, and there were a lot of young Rembrandts in class. The sense of competition, the tension in the room, at least for me, was palpable. 

From that experience, and my art college years, I grew up believing that the creation of art was a serious, strained process, wrought with detail getting the line, shadow or grammar perfect. 

And the fruit of this belief bore very little art. 

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