Alison
***
I have lost count of how many times I had visited the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Guggenheim Museum, and the MoMa. I had begged my parents to take me to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art for my 18th birthday. I've been there twice before, but I can't wait to visit it again and see the masterpieces of Matisse, Kahlo, Magritte, and Kandinsky.
My dream was about to come true in about a week. I had finished my Bachelor of Fine Arts in June, and after a stressful summer of interviews and applications I had been accepted to Evergreen School of Fine Arts, in the West Coast. My friends didn't understand why I didn't want to take a break from studying or why I wanted a Master's degree in painting. Most of them were ready to start working, but not me. I guess this was the European side of me, the one that wanted to be involved in academia and have a proper Master's degree.
As I was packing my whole life into suitcases, I scanned my old art pieces I kept in folders. I had saved everything I had done ever since I was sixteen, ever since I made up my mind I'd want to become an artist and pursue that professionally. I kept them not only for the sentimental value and the hard work I had put into every single drawing and painting, but also because I wanted to see my own evolution, to see how my art changed and my technique improved.
I also wanted to sell them for thousands of dollars once I became rich and famous. Oh well, a girl can dream.
I put some of them in one of the suitcases. I wasn't sure when I'd be back home, so I wanted to take them to remind me of how far I had come.
As I packed them neatly, my phone started buzzing.
It was my ex, Max. Well, he was my first ex.
"Hey, I heard you're leaving in a week," he said through the phone, "I want to see you before you go. God knows when I'll be seeing you again, you're moving so far away."
I really liked Max. We were each other's first loves. We started dating when we were 15, but it didn't work out between us. It's not like we had a big disagreement and broke things off. We just fell out of love, but still remained good friends.
"Yeah, I'm so excited to be going to Evergreen. It's the perfect college to pursue painting, it's so well ranked. And yeah, sure, let's meet up some time." I said, cheerily inviting him over. Although there was no definite time mentioned; I still looked forward to meeting with him again.
"Awesome." I could hear the shuffling of chairs and a clink of porcelain on glass. He probably took a seat for a cup of coffee. "I heard Evergreen was an old convent that had been abandoned and the State just remodelled it and turned it into a university—is that true?"
"Yeah, that's what all the brochures they sent me say. From what I've seen, they kept the colorful stained glass and the original stone. I'll be studying in a real-life medieval castle."
"I bet it'll give you loads of inspiration. But anyway, what lectures will you be taking?" He asked. He was no artist himself, he was more into economics, but he still wanted to know what I was up to.
"Let me see if I remember... So obviously I'll have Painting Mediums and Techniques, which is like the big art class, loads of practical work, many hours in the studio. Then I'll have Contemporary Art Thought and Practice, which honestly sounds a lot like those lectures that are only there to promote guest speakers and their art, and then I'll have the oh-so dreaded Art History. I'm honestly scared about that one."
"Why is that?" He asked.
"Well, it covers such a broad time span. All the way from Renaissance to Conceptual Art... It's gonna be a pain in the ass." I said, folding some shirts and placing them in my suitcase. "But anyway, these are the lectures of the first semester. Then the real work starts. We have a final Master's project, the equivalent to a thesis in the second semestre."
"Oh, je suis désolé, c'est dur! Seems like you've got the work cut out for you, Alison." Max said in his perfect French. Max is a French immigrant like I am. Maybe that's why we clicked when we first met so many years ago.
"Yes, but I'm excited anyway." I said, smiling through the phone. "Anyway, I'll talk to you later. I have to finish packing. Thanks for calling! I'll text you when I'm free."
He chuckled a little, "Alright, goodbye Alison."
I hung up the phone and finished my laborious task. I zipped up the bag, as it was thoroughly packed with my belongings; and that was when I received an email, the notification appearing on my phone's notification screen. I unlocked my device and opened the app; it was from one of the professors of the school, Dr Christopher Damon. The subject was "Reading Materials - Art History Course 2021/2022". I opened the email, a little surprised that we were already receiving emails from professors.
"Dear students,
For your Art History Course, I expect you to come prepared to every lecture by reading the papers assigned for each one. You can find them on the e-learning platform. As you have surely noticed, the syllabus is extensive and demanding, and even though I expect many of you to know some topics from your previous studies, this course won't be easy. For your first lecture, I'll be asking students at random to answer questions from the first paper. I will be doing this every lecture for every single paper. If you think you won't be able to keep up with the demand, I suggest you drop the class now. There are plenty of other courses to choose from to get an easy A.
See you all next Monday.
Dr Damon."
My eyes widened at the email. Who the hell was this Doctor Damon? This was such an awful way to "introduce" himself to the class. He didn't have to be so intense, especially before meeting us in person.
I searched for his profile on the University's website. His page had no image, but his resumé was extensive. He was most probably one of those old, grumpy, lifeless professors who found joy in tormenting students. He probably gave awful grades too.
I'd find out soon enough what this Dr Damon was all about.
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Chapter edited by LILAC12_250