is there somewhere? // a.i

one

HER

'Good morning everyone, welcome to your first Concepts of Representation class! A special welcome to our first years! Don't listen to the second and third years. This class is great. You might hate - okay, you will hate it to start with, but I guarantee by the end of the year you're going be thanking Van Gogh that you enrolled'.

Oh God. Okay, calm down Kira. If only I could slap myself in the face and not look like a complete psychopath.

'Some of you look like you're going to cry from terror, so fear not young buttercups! We will not do any of those ridiculous 'introduce yourself' games...yet'. Oh my God. This teacher is on crack. Do I really belong here? Everyone is dressed in, god; I wouldn't even know how to describe it. They look so unique...and cool. Why don't I look cool? I spend $60 on a top from a high end store and I can't manage to look decent and these people probably spent like, $10 on their whole outfit from Savers or something. And they look good. They look like real artists. They probably think I'm a sham. I can feel them judging me. Okay so maybe they haven't even looked at me but still, I'm so nervous, why am I nervous? We all had to apply the same way, we all got accepted into the same course. I deserve this as much as they do, even if I don't look as... Cool as they do.

'We're going to get straight into it, I think! Everyone pop your journals out and find a spot in the room that you're comfortable in. Use whatever materials you like for this activity'.

Yes, go for the corner. Shit, someone's taken it. Okay, all corners are taken. Stop running around in a circle, Kira, you look like an idiot. I'll just settle on this spot. Right in the middle of the room... Nice.

'Alrighty! Now, these are all super easy. We're going to do a few little warm ups! Firstly, I want everyone to stay put, and look up. You have 2 minutes to sketch out everything you see directly above you. Go'.

Lots of brackets. A shit load of brackets. I like drawing peoples faces, not brackets. Okay lines, lots of lines, shadows of the lines a few holes. Wow. Picasso, eat your heart out.

Every time we finished an activity we moved onto another more ridiculous one - ridiculous for me anyway, perhaps not for an abstract artist. You can't cater for everyone here I guess.

'Super duper job, everyone. Now, enough with the silly warm ups, this one should get the blood flowing. Look at someone in the room. They might be directly in front of you, they might be sitting next to you, they might be the ghosts of fallen art students that are floating above you, I don't know! I'm going to give you 20 minutes to draw every detail that you can see of that person. It doesn't have to be 100% realistic, but I want you to try your best to capture as much as you can. Got your person?'

No, I don't.

'Swell. Off you go!'

Okay, the guy in the beanie will have to do. Curve of the forehead, sharp nose, shit, his lips are thin. Sketch the shoulders, the line of his stom- damn, why didn't I draw the boy next to him? That's a face and a half if I ever did see one. Shit, is he looking at me? Shit, oh my god is he drawing me? Calm the crazy eyes, Kira, you have no control over your own face muscles. Get back to the ugl- shit, the other boy. I meant the other boy.

'Time is up, cherubs! Everyone put down their materials, pop your journals down on the ground and go for a little stroll. Check out everyone's pieces and study them, get a sense of the different styles around you. Everyone here is unique in their abilities, and I want you to understand that your individual talents are wonderful, unique is best!'

It's hard to feel content with your own work when everyone else is so amazing. Their strokes are so... Free. Mine are so tight and rigid. I made my way around the circle of books until I got to the boys journal. The figure, my figure, was almost like a Klimt nude. It was beautiful. Except, you know, I wasn't playing with myself like all of Klimt's muses. Ha, muses. I shall be this boy's muse. I am a majestic nymph of nature. Christ, Kira, check yourself into an asylum.