This day didn’t start out too well, but things quickly turned in my favor. Last night I decided I’d play up to the next save point in Silent Hill. Well, I bet you can guess what ended up happening…yeah…well…the save point ended up being a little further on than I had anticipated, and before I knew it, it was 2:00 AM. Well…I finally forced myself to go to bed, so I went and brushed my teeth and washed my face, and when
I came back I heard sirens approaching. I live on a college campus, so this is a pretty regular occurrance, but they just kept getting closer and closer. So I took a peek out my window, and I saw the flashing lights as a firetruck and 2 ambulances pulled up along the street. I couldn’t really see much of what was going on because it was quite dark, but they took 2 stretchers inside the building next to mine and after about 1/2 hour, they came out with 2 people on them. What worried me was that the ambulances didn’t go squealing off in a hurry…which meant one of two things–either the people weren’t seriously hurt, or they were dead. I was a little suspicious since that dorm is the housing for international students, and is most certainly not known as a party dorm. It took me awhile to fall asleep after that, but finally my body just gave up. (Side note: I found out later that two underage girls had gotten alcohol poisoning, which is what summoned the emergency team…sigh.)

Well, needlesss to say, I felt pretty crappy when I got up this morning, and I seriously considered skipping class and sleeping. Well, my conscience got on me, especially since I had some CDs that I was supposed to give some of my classmates, so I got myself ready and left. I had a Mt. Dew, and before long I was feeling pretty decent. But then came the one thing that made my day extraordinary.

My painting professor came around the room and talked to all the students while they worked as he normally does, so I kind of hung back in my corner quietly, not looking forward to “my turn.” As I’ve said, my professor and I do not typically agree about anything, so usually what I think is good or beautiful turns him off. Well, I’ve been working on a painting that is a great concept piece, and something I find extremely fun and clever. On its own, without any explanation, it’s very interesting and unique, but even stronger when you realize what it really means. I’ve shown it during two class critiques now, and in its current state, it seems to be getting a very positive response. People think it looks really nice, and very “painterly”…it’s loose and flowing rather than modeled and rendered crisply. In my opinion, it looks 1/2 done–I don’t like it as it stands.

But I’ve been getting a lot of hassle from both the teacher and my classmates that I should leave it the way it is, and go on to something else. This agitates me a lot because it doesn’t follow either my original vision or even my painting style. I didn’t agree with what people were suggesting to me, so I decided that I would make a replica of the painting, but this time painted and finished the way I prefer. And that’s exactly what I did. I wanted to prove to myself (more than to others) that I was right. I was extremely uncomfortable with catering to the seemingly popular opinion that I should leave the painting alone, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to move on with my work until I proved that my instinct was correct…or that I was completely off base. I needed to know, one way or the other.

Well, I showed the new version to two other people before my professor saw it, and both of them preferred the new version over the original. This was a huge deal for me, as it reasserted that my instinct–my gut reaction–was proving correct. It’s also important to note that unless I develop an intimate relationship with the painting I’m working on, I usually don’t care much about it and it ends up being lifeless and boring. This is how the first version seemed to me. The new version, however, I fell madly in love with as I was working on it. I felt that tug that I feel with the work I am closest to–the tug that told me if something happened to the painting, I would be devastated. To me, that’s an indication that something in it works perfectly, even if I am the only one who thinks so.

Welllll…..my professor came over and took a look at it. We had a nice long discussion about the differences between each version, and he said to me “So it looks like Ann is finally right for a change.” I retorted, “What does that mean–for a change?!?!” After a few additional comments, he remarked “I think you’re doing some excellent work here, Ann.” I was speechless for a moment, then finally choked out “Thank you.” At that point, he left to talk to us all as a group, but I just stood there, astounded, dumbfounded, flabergasted!

In a way, this may have been one of the most exhilarating experiences of my life…to know that I had been right all along, and finally having it recognized by the people who opposed me. But in a more significant way, it’s frightening because it means that my opinions and thoughts are so radically different than my peers and superiors, and that what appeals to them may not be the correct solution to the problem. I guess what I’m saying is that…what does it mean if I am right about this? It means that I’m right…but by myself. Since no one followed along with me until they saw the painting created in my intended vision, it means that it is something unusual to them–something that doesn’t immediately appeal to their sense of beauty and “correctness.”

Is this little experience a glimpse of what I’m going to have to deal with for the rest of my life? I have always known that I think and feel much differently than most people I know…that is no surprise to me. But to have my thoughts and feelings and instincts finally acknowledged as being correct even though they aren’t immediately popular…I don’t know. It’s cool but scary at the same time. It gives way for a potential that could be overwhelming to me and to anyone who crosses my path. I’m trying so hard to be true to myself without overstepping my bounds and cutting myself off from chances for improvement through experimentation. What I’ve learned in the past couple weeks is that experimentation can prove valuable, but is nothing when compared to instinct. So what if no one paints the way I do? I’m really tired of feeling guilty because my painting seems too “graphical” and not “painterly” enough. That’s who I am, and what I do. Yes, I’m very “anal” about my things…I need them to be orderly and crisp. There is no reason I should feel bad about being true to my own vision, and I’ve made up my mind to stick with it even if it’s not a common agreement, because my work has been proven sucessful after completion even though I’ve been ribbed in mid-process. I guess that’s one of the biggest reasons I don’t like others watching me work…because things evolve and change at their own pace, and not always in any kind of expected manner.

However, as time goes on, I am beginning to get this feeling from my classmates…a sort of respect tinged with possible admiration. Most of them realize that I am not a painting major, and am only taking the classes because I truly enjoy painting. I’ve gotten compliments on my work, especially on the concepts I’ve been tackling, and it seems like my opinion matters to them–even those of whom are painting majors, and who are further along in the program than I. They call me “Fox”, and when I enter the room, the camaraderie is very inviting. They seem to actually be glad I am there, and get something out of the conversations we have. I really enjoy stepping into this environment, and even though we all have different tastes and styles in painting, we all share some common ground. It’s a wonderful feeling.

Sometimes it’s tough to earn people’s respect, but when it finally happens, it means so much more.

(Small note: the paintings in question are compared in this photo.)