Note to self

I didn’t follow directions. On the second day that we were supposed to be brainstorming through writing questions, I drew instead.

 

Two days before I had worked out a rough idea of what I wanted to do for my final project and had spent time since flushing it out. So I started drawing skyscrapers and frames and water and everything that came to mind when I thought about my ideal gen/sex class.

 

 

Note to Owl: I feel like a failure for not coming up with the bed idea. Excellent… really.

 

So it kind of started on some lined paper in the middle of class. Then it continued in the middle of my ESem class.

Note to Professor Thomas: I was doodling during discussion. I didn’t mean to, I just kept having thoughts and its hard to “jot down” picture thoughts.

 

I grabbed some paper from Arncliffe and some empty wine bottles out of Radnor recycling and started to get to work.

 

Note to self: Call the girl who is “talking to” ex before going ANYWHERE as to not repeat the awkward Arncliffe run-in incident.

 After the first night of working on the poster it looked like crap. My roommate was sweet enough to offer to draw it for me (girl talk for “wow you can not draw for the life of you!”).

 

The second night I mixed up some strange mixture of glue, blue paint and water (Which smelt like dining hall eggs) and began to rip and cut up my notes and photos from the course. Somehow between smearing my “smurf juice” on these pieces of paper, gluing some foil in the rough shape of a “skyscraper” and playing with some fabric glue and scraps, my presentation started to take shape…kinda. (Okay, not really it was still pretty damn ugly and the skyscraper looked like a large green spray-painted phallus).

The third night incorporated some bad 80s music, blue painter’s tape and finally the glass.

 

Note to Julia Stuart: I still have tiny itchy bits of glass in my hands and I’m sure you do too. Thanks for the help. OOOOPPPAHHHH!

 

I consider myself artsy in my thoughts. I like the “vision” aspect, if that’s what you want to call it. I don’t think I draw, paint, etc well at all. It was the best feeling that I have had while at Bryn Mawr when I presented my “set design”. To have something like that come together in a (relatively organized) replica of what was in my head was so exciting. At first I couldn’t tell what the class really thought of it.

 

Note to class: Be more emotive in your facial expressions in the future.

 

Which was agonizing because I would have been less nervous if I was just standing there naked, than having my “art” judged.

 

Note to self: Never have art judged while naked…Implosion may occur.

 

But never the less, there I was standing in front of the class pretending to not be sweating and having the heart rate of a speed addict. When I started explaining my ideas behind the random images I had strewn together on this paper taped to cardboard I saw people nodding heads and leaning forward in their seats. At this point my heart rate slowed to that of a sprinting asthmatic. Someone suggested I pass my poster around and I did. This was my favourite part. It was so cool having people see what I had done up close, touching the fabric, glass and foil, making comments. I loved it.  

 

Note to myself in 10 years: Blame Anne, Kristin and Lynda Barry for re-awakening my love for set design and subsequently damning me to a future of theatre work and resulting financial struggle.

 

Related note to parents: Sorry I won’t be able to pay for your retirement.