#Also please dont send me advice or armchair diagnose me based on this post. I already know. It just aint about that rn

[unrealward]

The last few posts are, like I said, from my high school AP drawing and painting portfolio (By the way, the theme of the concentration was "Transformations of the body". Does it read?)

I have some complicated feelings about the work. Below the cut I share some musings about it.

Warning, this story is about classroom abuse.

My high school art teacher was hypercritical, controlling, and at times coercive. In other words, abusive.

Because we, her students, regularly won awards for our work, she continued mostly unchallenged by the school. She was working there for over 15 years.

I was her favorite, so I was spared the worst of it, but that isn't the kind of privilege you're happy to have. Favoritism is conditional on obedience, and in this case, achievement through technical skill.

I generally try to make the best of any situation--Call it resourcefulness, or opportunism. I tried to explore and express my ideas while still getting her approval to go forward with the pieces--At times a lengthy process. I knew to keep my most vulnerable ideas to myself. She might have vaguely known that I enjoyed manga, cartooning, and surrealism, but I kept it hidden. Everything I brought to the table was a sacrificial lamb.

It's a particular kind of violation to not just lack ownership over your own ideas, but even your physical output. For some students, she would actually paint or draw over parts of the work to "correct" them. This only happened to me once or twice, and I usually managed to paint back over her work without a fuss. But even if I only dealt with it in the ideation process, all of my work from that time inevitably still has her hands on it.

I decided pretty early on, unrelated to her class, that I was not interested in pursuing art professionally. As I approached graduation, adults in my life would constantly encourage me--"Don't let this talent go to waste! Don't stop drawing, okay?"

It was difficult to understand. Drawing is reflexive to me. I couldn't really imagine a world without it--Even a "me" without it.

And that's still true in a lot of ways. I don't think I can ever put the pencil down completely. But certainly, I've had to make time for it, and it's no longer my biggest priority. There are weeks, probably months I've spent without drawing much of anything. It's been years since my last oil painting. I miss drawing with colored pencils.

In high school, I had some hundreds of hours dedicated to nothing but making art--But only under the hawkish eye of the teacher. I could make these highly developed pieces because I simply had the time to do so. If nothing else, I enjoyed the technical process.

If I want to make work of this caliber again, I have to devote a similar amount of time--And as an adult, time is on quite the premium.

When I make art, I never think of high school. Regularly I forget it ever happened. Wisely and tragically, I knew how to compartmentalize.

In the absence of acute pain, what I carry is more insidious--That strategic disconnection, that permanently-guarded heart. The sharpening of my abilities such that I appear as a whole self when I am sharing just a sliver.

There isn't some grand moral to the story here. The abuse neither actively haunts me, nor can I say I have recovered from it. It simply happened. But I know a lot of students were turned off from art, maybe forever, because of that teacher. They carry medals that don't feel earned. They struggle to find an artistic voice amidst the din.

At times, I need to make art to understand how I feel. Other times, I need to understand how I feel to make art. I can't help but see the image of things I want to create, even if I don't know how, even if I'm not ready.

Obviously, there's life after this kind of abuse. I'm living it. More than giving me new baggage, it's more accurate to say it codified existing problems. Anyways, I'm sharing this old art because I want to claim the past as mine, even if it's painful or embarrassing.

I'm hoping to make more art soon. I am trying to unbind myself from careful strategy and intention and to create things that bubble up from my subconscious. There are ideas I have held onto for years that are just waiting for me to create them. Even if it's slow or difficult, I hope I can share them with you some day.

Thanks for reading.