Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

Eighth and final semester, day two:  Somebody fucking kill me.

No, seriously. Today I went to my Friday class, an elective known as Fibre 200-something, also known as Printing On Cloth.  Oh right, so this is why I decided to be a painting major.  Because technical processes are both laborious and daunting to me.  I would much rather have total and instantaneous control over my product, the pure extension of my own hand.  Which is why I love to make paintings! the spontaneity and ability to judge based on intuitive response, and the most technical aspect of it all is stretching a damn canvas! Okay, so I don't really make too many of those these days, I still absolutely love to do it! But this need for instant gratification could also account for why I make videos.  Well, why I make videos the way that I do.  Which is to say low-tech, based in process-by-play (a new term that I just coined, referring to a process that involves tons of glitter play dough, spray foamy, glitter, and other fun things that I also enjoyed when I was five), and so bizarre that little editing is even required.  For the record, my editing skills are limited to iMovie, and rudimentary at best.  And after that, I can project the thing on a big ol' wall, turn up the speakers, and voila! A giant, no-mess, mobile, writhing, bizarre, vortex of an artworkz.  But yet today I endured an entire day (see: 9AM-5:30PM...dear God that's not artmaking, that's a full shift) of my first ever stab at an actual Fibre course, as well as at silkscreening.  And I have to say, I don't much care for it.  The minutiae of cleaning the screen within 30 SECONDS OF APPLYING THE PIGMENT AND...wait, what was the technical term for it? Shit, I just learned it, "PULLING", LEST IT DRY AND RUIN THE PRECIOUS SCREEN FOREVER, is just beyond what I can bear.  Somehow, I found myself upstaged by the second years, who had actually taken similar courses before, as my work area was just covered in ink, resulting from improperly centered silkscreens. The idea that I should spend all this time in a studio that is not mine, taught by an instructor who is apparently dead-set on the idea that she is teaching only overzealous second (and first) year future Fibre-majors, is just revolting.  Plus, we're not even allowed to bring our beverages into the space, lest we die from toxic...airborne...ingestion? And a late policy that just doesn't work for me, on Fridays, in this, my last ever semester.  I could continue my self-indulgent rant, but I realize that this may be childish, and I should quit complaining and perhaps listen to the instructor's demos with an open mind that might just instill upon me a new craft! Meh, if I want a fun drawing emblazoned upon my T-shirt, I'll just learn how to do iron-on.  In the mean time, I've got to find another class to switch this one for. Save me.