you foreigner you're on your own tralalala laaaaah

I'm leaving in exactly one week for Sydney. Traveling alone for the first time is ever so scary and exciting. Oh well, I'm 21, I should at least pretend I'm grown up. I keep telling myself that if stupid people do it everyday, so can I. I just really hate airports. Banks and airports = kill me plz.

My sister and brother-in-law are awesome. They're giving me a spare room for 3 months, plus helping out in all sorts of ways; short courses at COFA, library membership, a bike (yay! I haven't ridden a bike in YEARS!).

The change in scenery couldn't come at a better time. However much I love this bizarre place I call home, it's emotionally and mentally draining to the point of persistent ennui.

I'm already developing an idea for a series of paintings (you know, "serious" art, not that doodling stuff ). I don't want it to be just another false start, so I'm spending more time on planning every aspect out to hopefully end up with a cohesive, consistent body of work that does justice to a concept I think defines all my motivations for self-expressiveness. So I have three months and no excuses to put a significant amount of work into this idea. I'm more excited than I have been in years.

And... I'm getting a haircut tomorrow! Hehe I love how excited I get in anticipation of a new haircut.

Doubt that I shall be spending much time on the internetz and so for all of those lovely people out there who I cannot reply to directly - thank you for taking an interest in my art. The feedback that I get from you people is incredibly generous and always appreciated.

Reemus

I am generally happy with life and excited about the future.
(weird huh?)

Peace.

It’s been about a year since I’ve written any sort of update on my life and/or my psychobabble on all things ridiculous, so I suppose it’s about time I explain myself. Well, that’s a shame-faced lie. Even I am not deluded enough to think that anyone really cares. I feel like ranting damnit and since I can enjoy the dual benefits of;

1. feeling (naively) unmonitored and
2. indulging my narcissism by ‘utting it out there’;

I will. For I am Reem. Or something.

I dropped out of art school last June after an enchanting six months of human slavery. "You will assimilate!" Assimilate to what, exactly, no one was particularly clear about… just about anything, as long as you managed to pull off the mind boggling feat of complying with all your instructors opinions, whims, fear-mongering tactics and never speak up for yourself. Don’t. We tried. And all that resulted was a kind of sad meeting between the foundation year, who started shouting out their frustrations de jour and the “establishment”, who smiled diplomatically and pretended to take down suggestions. That and the fact that several of the people who did come with me to discuss our myriad issues initially (and supposedly “confidentially” were blacklisted by some instructors as being non-compliant and therefore subject to more personal attacks than usual.

I tried very hard not to be a drop out, I tried very hard to make it work and have zero expectations. Only I did have a very crucial expectation – to be treated with a little fucking dignity. Even that, I was willing to relinquish in some selfless quest for bettering myself with an education. After having talked to (and seen the work of) many students who were in their final year, however, even that seemed like a remote possibility. These people were even more confused than I was, and on top of it they were frightened of what they’d have to do when they get out of school and there’s no instructor shoving a suppository full of instructions up their arses. This, by the way, contradicts the administration’s claim that its regimental, life-consuming hours and petty politicking was all preparation for the “real world”.

Here are some potentially interesting incidences that occurred during my time there:

-Was forced to observe the bizarre mass mentality ritual of “ragging”, where everyone gets together to harass and debase the newbies, and anyone who doesn’t comply is a spoilsport. I was a spoilsport. I was a spoilsport because I felt I had the right not to have my face doodled over with permanent markers by slags (with doubtful artistic ability) who’s only achievement is that they probably went through the same thing a year or two ago. The whole thing felt a bit like being branded for the slaughterhouse. I did however get smacked with a water balloon and then chased with more when I flipped the person off for having left a week’s worth of work and I soggy and bitterly cold. I should have turned around and kissed his bum, really. They expected you to be grateful for the bullying. The administration basically condones this kind of Lord of the Flies behavior until it goes wrong and someone eats a bag of chillies. That someone could have stuck his ground and said no, but the sick thing is, he wanted to do it. What a masochistic, desperate for approval maneuver that was. He wanted them to like him. He was happy that after the first day of school he’d been given an incredibly patronizing nickname as a result of the incident. The whole thing was more like a Nickelodeon game show than an introduction into a “higher” education facility.

-Had raging kleptomaniacs pilfer my drawing board, a big bundle of wires and dozens of miscellaneous supplies. Had raging kleptomaniac bimbo in my class who’d nick things from one’s desk and then wonder why it turned up on hers…….. By the way I probably spent more money in those 6 months on art supplies than I ever have in my entire life and I don’t have a single thing to show for it that doesn’t make me cringe at its art school standardness.

-Stayed up all night making models only to have the instructor waltz into class 2 hours after it had started, take a look at one person's models, and then tell everyone to throw theres' out the window. Terror hawk. When I took this up with my coordinator she said that there’s a reasoning behind all the instruction and the point of that exercise was to make us “let go and not hang on to first attempts, to try harder”. My sensitive bullshitometer went bezerk when I heard that lame excuse because I wouldn’t be able to tell if my second attempt was better if I didn’t have my first one to compare it to now would I? We’re all paying for them to assess our work, not dismiss it.

-The same instructor forced the entire year to sign up and pay for one of those motivational seminars that tells you the self is infinite and and that they’d let you in on life-changing secrets. I saw very little change in any of the participants, save for a lot of new agey jargon being thrown around for a couple of weeks. Fortunately, I stood my group and said nothanks, I’d rather spend the extra hours finishing my shitty assignments which I can take no pride in because there are so many guidelines there’s very little space for this “infinite self” you harp on about.

-Was caught arguing indignantly with someone in the middle of a post-doc lecture and when asked why I was disrupting the class and what I was talking about I explained that we were talking about the documentary and how I made some point about the Holocaust and the person sitting next to me said that you can’t expect most people to know about that. I found it completely ridiculous that anyone could have NEVERheard of the word ‘Holocaust’... until in a very cocky way, to illustrate my point, I asked people to raise their hands if they had. About 25 out of 120 did. I felt like an idiot until I realized I was actually surrounded by them.

-When I arrived for my portfolio review at the end of the term I had some poncey board member tell me, “I am very confused. On one hand I’ve been told that you’re an excellent student, on the other hand I’ve been told that you’re considering leaving”. Err… yeah. He couldn’t seem to get his head around separating the two concepts. Being good and not wanting to be there. When I told him that I was in fact leaving he cut in and said, “Not again (this happens regularly, see, drop out rate is very high), are your parents marrying you off?”. No you *censored piece of something* (yes I am afraid some art circle groupie is going to get wind of this journal entry and lynch me). Is it so hard to believe that there’s someone who’d rather forego your precious degree than pay to feel stupider and graduate in nothing other than a spot in your complacent mutual admiration society?

Wow. I kind of stopped myself from writing about this in the past being I didn’t want a self-absorbed diatribe from spewing out. Now that I've gone there and said it I'm finding it hard to just select all and delete. I believe my experiences warrant some record. Having said all that (and I stand by it), there were some times that I did like the place and the people and the things and it wasn’t always like some nightmarish manifestation of The Wall (well I suppose if The Wall was a reality TV tragicomedy then it was). I did have some good times and experienced some learning but it was neither enough nor significant enough to matter in the long run.

So the long of it is that I left in triumph in June. The triumph, however, was short-lived once I realized exactly how much of an insecure and indecisive basketcase the school had actually turned me into. I hurt my left shoulder blade while there and though at the time the pain went away in a couple of days, once the weather started turning cold the dull ache returned and has refused to go. I stay away from the Vicodin and grit my teeth instead. So I’ve been slowed down by these two factors but feel myself getting back into it, albeit gradually. Like a tortoise. Who wins the race (YEAH!).

I’m working part time for a woman who conducts teacher training workshops/seminars and do everything from assist her during the workshops to helping design new ones. It’s not something I would have picked out for myself but I’m glad she asked me (her son’s a friend of my brother and he pretty much sung my praises until she had to see for herself). I feel more satisfied albeit get less money than if I were to say, do stupid work for an ad agency and feel like a shit all over again. It’s a trade-off I’m comfortable with. In Pakistan, there are no teacher accreditations and so anyone can teach. And a lot of anyones do, regardless of whether they’re effective teachers. It’s ironic that after spending so much time obsessing about how bad the instruction I was receiving was I’m actually doing something related to tackling that.

Alongside that I’ve got various projects cooked up, some of which will hopefully see the light of day. In April I’m going to Sydney for a few months and will probably sign up for some short courses at COFA… I’m caught up these days planning and preparing for that. I'm really excited to be getting the hell out of this disillusionment pit for a while.

Life is totally weird but that has a lot to do with the political climate in this country and how it’s affected me (not much. I am very lucky). I’ll spare that rant for another day (though it’s very juicy and sensationalist even if you don’t care a cluck’s arse for Pakistani politics and state of affairs). It’s suddenly become fashionable for everyone to reckon themselves a political pundit here. Eww. Anyway, I’ll add my two cents sometime and join the herd.

Hey, I told you I learnt a few things at school.

Now I'm off to read Dostoevsky and I'm saying that not to come off as a pretencious shit but simply to illustrate one point : I wouldn't be reading anything right now if I were still there at school right now.

So I didn't fail. I think I won, even if it's only the hopelessly undervalued commodity of self respect.

Tear shit up!