░░▒▒▒▓▓▓▒▒▒░░ (masstreble) wrote,

I remember Printmaking. I didn't do hardly any damn thing in that class. I work so damn slow it's amazing I do anything at all, but that medium is time-consuming and just hard. Basically, you gash up a surface with a tool or chemicals and then you put some ink on it and squish it out of this roller thing with some paper and you get an image. They're like really big hard-to-do stamps. A couple of those images I uploaded were scans of prints I did.

That's beside the point, though. I hated a lot of the other people in that class. I hated them because they made me feel like shit.

First, they were mostly attractive, confident, and skilled young people. (That's not enough for hate, but I have something else. On seconed thought, I take it back. It is enough.)

Second, there was this incident. Two of them were talking before class. I was, hell, I don't know, there doing something, and this strapping couple of artists were chatting.

"I don't get people who don't like their own work." the male said. "If they don't like their work," he continued, "why are they even here?"

Whatever thing I was doing, I stopped doing. I couldn't do it anymore.

So there's a question from the imagined peanut gallery, "What's the problem? What's wrong with what he said? What's YOUR problem? Huh? Huh? huh?"

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