Chapter 8: Chapter 2

“Hello Mr. Thorton,” my professor greeted me kindly as I stepped into his cluttered office. “I’m glad we could schedule this meeting. Please, take a seat.”

I sit in the right chair and sit awkwardly as my mind is well aware of my body language and posture. I don’t want to appear intimidating or disinterested, but I also wish I was comfortable.

“How are you doing this fine morning?”

“Doing okay, how are you?” I return the question. I think for a moment about how this is the first time I have ever sat and talked with my professor one on one. He had never had the time outside of class to talk to me personally.

“I’m doing very well, thank you for asking. Now, I wanted to talk to you about your artwork and the final portfolio,” he continued on as he looked at his laptop while speaking.

“Yes,” I responded but couldn’t think of anything else to say. I wasn’t the one who initiated this meeting, he did, so he should lead it.

“Mmm,” he hummed and leaned back in his rolly chair, “yes, so I have here in my notes what I want to discuss. Now, what degree are you here for?”

“Graphic design.”

“Ah, yes, a very booming art degree nowadays in the twenty-first century. Well, I guess that will change some of the dynamic in this conversation but still, I have some points to make to you. I want to preface this, I like your artwork. Your skill is very good for your age, your eye for the arts is there, but the soul is lacking.”

Here he goes, I think to myself as I prepare for the criticism.

“Lot of artists put personality in their artwork, a story to their work, something that stands out from all of the others. Your artwork lacks that, and in the world of creativity there’s only so far you’ll go with this simplistic work. I don’t mean this in a mean way of course, I want to help you grow and strive in the art community.”

“Okay,” I responded. Part of me wants to speak up, to tell him that my artwork has meaning, memories, and emotions attached to them. I keep my mouth shut. Either way, I guess he’s right on this one as he is the professor of this art class.

“I want to read over the assignment requirements for this portfolio, at least the key points I want you to focus on personally that will help you succeed with this class’s final. Within this portfolio, the point is to have a theme in all six of your art pieces. With this theme, I personally would like you to create a story with all six of your pieces. They all have to be linked somehow. Here, let me find some examples from my previous classes.” 

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Professor Simon leaned forward and began going through his computer. After many clicks he then turned his laptop to face me and I saw a bunch of art pieces on his screen. The first set that he had selected was of different bird species with vibrant colors and clipped pieces of what looked to be case files of some sort, most likely crime related files. 

“One of my previous students was taking this class for their minor in arts while their major was for criminal science of some sort. They found cases that spoke to them personally and then took the state bird and combined them both together. It was very clever and very personal…” He sighed as if he took it personal too, then continued onto the next portfolio. 

One after one he showed me previous works and explained their story, all of which were cool and good, but nothing I could relate to. Then, he returned his laptop facing himself and leaned onto his desk. When he locked eyes with me, he spoke as kindly as he could.

“I’d like to see a story of some kind in your portfolio. You have the skill to make good artwork, but you’re lacking that deep meaning behind the work and skill you have. I am sure that you have many interests in your personal life, and I would like for you to deep dive into them and bring them out in this final.”

“Okay,” I hesitated for a moment. “I can try to do that.”

“Good! Good…” He turned and began typing again. “I will put in my notes that we talked this over and I look forward to reviewing your final. If ever you need help, don’t hesitate to send me an email and I will gladly give you feedback.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.”

“No problem. Is there anything else you’d like to discuss before leaving?”

“No, I think we’ve covered everything.” I stand up and lightly nod my head.

“Have a good day,” he hollered as I promptly left the messy office room.

As I stepped out of the building, my insides began to twist and turn. I felt horrible about myself, I felt as if I was in trouble and I didn’t want to. I closed my eyes while I walked and focused on my breath for a second, then I opened my eyes and pushed forward. I wouldn’t feel this, not again. The one good thing about college is that you deal with your teachers on your own, in high school your parents will always find out what’s happening with you. I hurt and realized that I was clenching my jaw. I relax and my temples stop aching. 

Just find something that you like and focus six pieces on that. It shouldn’t be that hard, I think to myself, trying to draw my thoughts and feelings to fix the issue. At least it’s due at the end of the semester… I have time.

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