Yesterday I went to the movies, and the pick that day was either Poseidon or Art School Confidential. We decided to skip the huge wave - it's going to be at the movieplex for a damn long time anyways - and decided for some independent flavor. Good choice. If you are one of us who attended art school, this movie is for you.
Ok, the "brief": a young dude starts off his semester at art school. He encounters what all of us did: the cliches. The crazy art chick who cries and wears dark all day. The drop out who has been at the shit for years and years. The dude who sucked beyond belief but no one told him. The experimental dude who simply ignores the rules and think garbage is art. The kiss ass who does every single thing he can to pass the class. The frustrated teacher who didn't make it. And of course, the main character, who has talent way beyond this earth but no one sees it.
It starts off like a stupid teen movie, but the plot thickens a bit. If you ignore the commercial twist, you get the underlying point in this movie. It's not what you do and how you do it, it doesn't matter if you are good. It's only who you know and how you play the game. So true in life...
I wanted to be a painter at one time. I studied hard. Made decent pieces in my time. But I simply coudn't enter the world. I found it tacky and superficial. What I hated the most were art exhibits. The wine. The stupid comments done by people who actually didn't have a clue. The clothes. The elevator music. Something didn't click with me, at all. But I still remember many good things about my four years at art school... And those memories I could relive in a second.
The long saturdays painting with loud music. The camping where we would all take pictures, draw and drink until we couldn't no more. We were a bunch of friends who used each other as models, as teachers, as critics. Some took it seriously, some of us knew we were going to end up at an ad agency (damn, if we knew then what we know now, right?) For a split second every single one of us thought we could actually make a life being painters. But slowly we realized. Just a few could make it. In my class, none did. Every one changed jobs, even careers, when money was needed.
I don't paint anymore. Time just passes by and I just don't seem to find the time. I even threw out all my materials, knowing full well my life in art was finished. And, here's the punchline. Yesterday before going to the movies, I went to a real expensive restaurant to celebrate my mom's 53rd b-day; first of all because I love her to death, second because I needed to eat a decent hot meal (dad paid, of course, because I have almost no money, dammit). This place has huge pieces of art everywhere you look. So I ask, how much are they asking for that piece, and that piece. Thousands. I mean Traffic Director salary thousands. So I keep looking at them, in total disbelief. All the pieces resembled how I painted, and how many of my dear friends painted as well.
It doesn't matter that I can be that good. It only matters who I'd need to know if I wanted to sell my pieces. In fact. I have a wonderful piece at my house of a friend I miss dearly. He was excellent. He could kick any of the painter's ass I saw yesterday. But since he didn't like to kiss ass, he left his passion and starting working for the government. A desk job. I find this cruel and wrong.
Maybe I will gather some cash and start doing it again. Maybe I need that, to calm the nerves and pass some time with myself. Who knows. But yesterday, that movie was great. It is always nice to remember a good time in your life. Right?
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