Apologises for being cliché but on the more serious side, it isn't exactly my nature to write a blog where I have to express myself in the form of actual WORDS. Believe me, without the burning desire to rewrite the misconceptions that I experience every day regarding art and the world that has evolved around it, I wouldn't have bothered trying to verbalise my daily thoughts and worries!
I am an eighteen year old student studying an art foundation at Cardinal Newman College, Preston: that's right: a third year at college. (How I am surviving I do not know. It must be something in the mocha Linda makes at the colleges' costa) No -We are NOT resitting. This is not because I am not good enough: or so I keep telling myself! Saying that I took receiving a measly 1 offer of my 5 university options rather harshly last year would have been the worlds biggest understatement, and having just sent off my second - AND LAST - UCAS form, I feel like I am back with vengeance.
I think, like a lot of art students, the idea of a foundation year is often presented as resitting, a place for people who are weak, who are unsure, aren't ready. Maybe I'm speaking for myself, but I felt offended at the suggestion of spending a 3rd year at a college that I had already struggled to like from the beginning. Not only did I dislike the thought of staying another year at Newman, I also struggled massively coming terms with the fact I would be spending another year in Preston, while all of my other friends ventured off to all of the most amazing cities across the UK. This time last year, my relationship with my family wasn't the best, I am the only person in my family to stay in education beyond college to progress to university, so the pressure, stress and deadlines I experienced were something foreign to them and me. Not to mention a messy break up, which being the insecure introvert I am, was kept a secret from most of my friends until months later!
To cut the story short, I was left with my 'last resort', as I called it at the time, to take up a foundation year at the college, which would enable me to almost certainly progress on to a course at university. I can honestly, whole heartedly say that this was one of the best decisions I'd ever made despite feeling so sour at the beginning!
I have just finished the exploratory stage of my course which was a series of techniques we had to explore on the theme of Faded Summers. I found myself immersed with inspiration, new knowledge, new processes and the freedom to try whatever I wanted. This was definitely something I'd never experienced at A level, and suddenly, I understood why this was necessary. After only 3 months on the course, I have delved into textiles, graphics and 3D design and achieved things I had never of thought I could. I am most definitely a fine artist, but I know different ways how to be one. Most of all it has given me time to think: Why am I doing this? What can I do next? How can I improve? What do I care about?
I am aware that I sound like an art foundation activist and please do not think that I wake up every morning and jump out of bed, shouting LET'S MAKE ART!!! Because I most certainly do not. Art is painful, aggravating and it sometimes drains the life out of me. It does keep me awake at night, but not always in that tormenting, restless manner that many artists, writers or dancers might experience. Am I good enough? Do people care? Is this pointless? What if they don't like it? Can I do this?
Despite the irritable, raging, emotional blob that it often forces me to become, I know that nothing easy is worth doing. How often is it that you find yourself unable to sleep at 4am, searching for a pen, because the idea you have this strong burning feeling in your heart? I'm not talking about heart burn for anyone about to recommend Gaviscon, I'm talking about that eureka moment when you know you're on to something you can put your heart and soul into. I know I can't be the only one.
I am an eighteen year old student studying an art foundation at Cardinal Newman College, Preston: that's right: a third year at college. (How I am surviving I do not know. It must be something in the mocha Linda makes at the colleges' costa) No -We are NOT resitting. This is not because I am not good enough: or so I keep telling myself! Saying that I took receiving a measly 1 offer of my 5 university options rather harshly last year would have been the worlds biggest understatement, and having just sent off my second - AND LAST - UCAS form, I feel like I am back with vengeance.
To cut the story short, I was left with my 'last resort', as I called it at the time, to take up a foundation year at the college, which would enable me to almost certainly progress on to a course at university. I can honestly, whole heartedly say that this was one of the best decisions I'd ever made despite feeling so sour at the beginning!
I have just finished the exploratory stage of my course which was a series of techniques we had to explore on the theme of Faded Summers. I found myself immersed with inspiration, new knowledge, new processes and the freedom to try whatever I wanted. This was definitely something I'd never experienced at A level, and suddenly, I understood why this was necessary. After only 3 months on the course, I have delved into textiles, graphics and 3D design and achieved things I had never of thought I could. I am most definitely a fine artist, but I know different ways how to be one. Most of all it has given me time to think: Why am I doing this? What can I do next? How can I improve? What do I care about?
I am aware that I sound like an art foundation activist and please do not think that I wake up every morning and jump out of bed, shouting LET'S MAKE ART!!! Because I most certainly do not. Art is painful, aggravating and it sometimes drains the life out of me. It does keep me awake at night, but not always in that tormenting, restless manner that many artists, writers or dancers might experience. Am I good enough? Do people care? Is this pointless? What if they don't like it? Can I do this? Despite the irritable, raging, emotional blob that it often forces me to become, I know that nothing easy is worth doing. How often is it that you find yourself unable to sleep at 4am, searching for a pen, because the idea you have this strong burning feeling in your heart? I'm not talking about heart burn for anyone about to recommend Gaviscon, I'm talking about that eureka moment when you know you're on to something you can put your heart and soul into. I know I can't be the only one.
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