Jester Drawings Midterms

This week is my midterms. Not many profs give them because my quarters are only 11 weeks and the finals are the ultimate goal. We produce work to place in our portfolio, that means its my chance to get a decent job at a reputable company. I have no desire to live the life of suit and tie so being that I want to maintain some artistic freedom my work must live up to my best work. Ugh… No pressure right?!?!,
My drawing class is my moment to relax during this week. Well it’s my relaxing moment every week truly. We have been busy letting go of the way we perceive forms. The human body is nice to view however when making a 2min. jester drawing that luxury does not exist. We moved from two min. towards 1 min. (You will see how my jesters became progressively sloppy but, that is the point)
When we free our minds of what we only see from the outside we being to truly see the inside…. Literally and physically. I see your words and form a picture but there is always an underlying story in all that y’all write… right?!?!?
Any who…. The last drawing is a 30min drawing of our model. She was quite amazing to hold that pose for so very long I think.

Ok… So that was my yesterday, today was my magazine layout day. It’s all in inDesign and seeing as how I spent my Christmas break studying that Adobe app it souls be no worries right?!?? Well, drama does not ex cape me… Ever
Or ever
Did I mention ever cause I meant to say EVER!!!
I arrive at class with my thumb drive and it flickers a while as I anticipate the steady glow from the screen stating the acknowledgment of my device yet I wait in vain. There is no praise received from the cold impartial monitor. Apparently, my thumb drive drive was damaged…..
to understand the gravity I must explain

My working finals were on that drive, my images of art work long gone from my embrace dwelled within that little black rectangular house. How do recreate my words? My dreams and fantasies that have offered my souls comfort in my lonely nights. My heart that was poured into hours of work, creating works that intrigued others to ask why only to be left wanting.
I despise the computer!!!! I long for my touch in my work. My slate has been wiped clean to my sorrow and I deeply wept within the slender walls of the ladies bathroom stall. My wretched heart stopped beating and my breath pulled from my soul and weep I did. Weeping from the inner skin that shields me from critique and judgement as I imagined ripping it from my being and stomping upon it, into the dirt and swallow that bubbles as a witches brew in my seething caldron of a self respect I harbor, hidden from those who see my smile and gayety.

I describe this moment knowing that you have felt this moment as I have offered. I do not own my heart, soul nor life as I might perceive it and inturn attempt to convey it to you. In your darkest moment did you not rip the fibers from your being over less or was it more? Regardless, lost is lost no matter how small and, it is I that feel the intensity of this pyre I stand. Willingly, openly, most welcomely I await my crucifixion only to be disappointed by “rebirth”!
As the second had passed I dipped my toes into the the river Styx allowing the draw to pull my stitches only for the briefest of minutes. My scream is muffed from my pain, silent yet ever deeper than the roots of the great oak. The blade severs my bonds and I rise.

Knowledge that no one can whip me in the intensity nor duration, I rise.

Hmmm, I don’t like finals. Just sayin’