The first couple of weeks in art school were exciting, but my work seemed insipid. I had entered with the mentality of the eager humble student, brandishing all ignorance, intent on absorbing everything like a sponge, abandoning all that I have taught myself in the past.
I refused to whip out my old ways; the ink, the paper, the feminine mystique, and the isolated pointless detail. I avoided the stylistic approach I was neck-deep into. I tried taking their charcoal and their graphite, their paper cutting, their woodwork and I did the assignments and exercises as someone would in an extremely proper erudite endeavor... According to all the ...