Creator the Curator

This is probably going to come out really conceited, I realize that, I promise. But seriously I have made myself nauseous. 

Are you curious as to the source of my ill temperament? Well let me show you...

For the same reason I was originally apprehensive, I now feel this is successful: It is Personal.

What might have been lost?

What might have been lost?

I have been very busy. So much school work. So much art. So little breathing room. 

Hello my name is Fred Mitchell. The title of this post is an excerpt from a speech I wrote last week. It was about my art. In the past I have primarily utilized photography to express my artistic vision. Over the past few months I have endured a considerable amount of chastising from my peers and mentors about photography as an art form. I know that I have mentioned in previous posts that I have been reading Susan Sontag's On Photography. I was partly reading Sontag's essays on photography because I hoped that there would be some sort of quip or rebuttal I could find and use against these people. Unfortunately, so far I have been unsuccessful. I have learned a good deal about photography as art/photography as documentation though. I just keep coming across issues that make me question whether or not I should even continue with my art. It doesn't help the matter that I am taking twelve studio art classes (none of which directly involve photography), and I keep coming across people who make me question the validity or importance of what I am doing. Since my work is becoming more personal I really am just questioning myself as a person and as an artist. I am not a photographer. I am an artist who uses photography as a tool to convey my artistic purpose. I do not feel good about myself as an artist or as a person right now. 

I have now received assistantships from the University of Washington in Seattle, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, and University of Nevada at Las Vegas. I have to make a decision soon but I don't know what I will choose. Those are the only three schools that I was offered assistantships from. I feel honored to have been offered such generous moneys from great art departments. 

I guess the rest is up to me. So, sleepless nights will ensue. Tossing and turning MFA programs over my mind, imagining which school could launch me into a successful career as an artist and an educator, but all the I will be pushing my tongue against the roof of my mouth and I'll be clenching my molars causing my bite to become slightly misaligned. Is this an excuse I can use for my lack of an appetite? Is it really? Maybe is it the thought of a grandiose failure? Maybe I simply forget? I guess a little of each will attribute to my weight loss. My birthday is Friday. I remember what I was doing two years ago. I wish I wasn't such a bad friend to the people who have been there for me. 

I actually have had trouble leaving my apartment because my panic attacks have become so severe. But when I had to give my speech last Wednesday I pulled my shit together as the last minute. I actually was proud of the whole deal, although my work did not look as good as the rest of the students, I did feel like I was able to articulate myself fairly well. Maybe I will be able to pull myself together again at the last minute and finish this semester with the GPA that I hope to get.

I started my new job with the Birmingham YMCA last week and a kid pooped in the pool. It is significantly better than UAB. Also, for my deer bike project I have found some ridiculous things on the internet like a deer leg, which I am going to be purchasing among other odds and ends. So, I look forward to showing that work. Now, I am going to work.

Sorry to all my friends who have to suffer by my hand for me being a poor friend for you. Now I must listen to these men who are shouting below my window. 

with love and squalor,

f.

foolish.