As I approached the gate for boarding my flight to New Joisy, the airlines started forcing everyone to check all bags because they said they didn’t have enough room in the overhead. This was met with some protest, to which a compliant traveler, turning to the line behind him, remarked, “We’re all in the same boat.” An ironic comment given that we are all, in fact, boarding a plane. As I approached, the woman looked at my tube—the one containing my prints for my exhibit this residency—and said, we’re going to have to check this. I said, “This contains fine art archival photographic prints.” The woman had a moment of hesitation, then said, “We’ll put it in the closet.”
Jaime - 1 Airlines - 0
I sat on the plane and overheard a conversation, “Hey man, how’s school?” Another dude replied, “Man, school is school. Same old shit.” I understood this sentiment and felt bad that education has to be like that. I had a moment of thankfulness that I am in a program that is truly not the same old shit and is much more inspiring and even—dare I say it—fun?
I had the middle seat between, you guessed it, two burly men. The guy on my right was a Joisy native and asked me where I was going. When I answered he replied, “Vermont! I hope you have nice boots!” I pointed out my crazy shoes I happened to be wearing in the cramped leg space of my seat. He said, “You made exactly the right call. Those are perfect.” He even recognized the brand, and said they were the best. Good research and purchasing skills from Ganesh, once again.
I felt hopeless about getting any sleep on the plane given the cramped and uncomfortable circumstances. So I put my headphones on and listened to my audio book. Then, the captain announced we would have some heavy turbulence. Much like the baby Prime Minister, the combination of the vigorous jostling and incessant talking from the audio book put me right to sleep and I slept for about 3 hours. When I awoke I literally could not move my neck, I had to ever so slowly turn from side to side and stretch my cramped muscles.
When I landed, I had to take a bus to the other terminal for my second flight. Since the airlines confiscated everyone’s luggage, many people were stuck outside in the cold at 5 am. It was cold, people. But I happened to be wearing my bulky snow coat, a decision no one else seemed to make, and I was toasty warm, much to the envy of everyone around me.
Jaime - 2 Airlines - 0 Winter - 0
As I arrived at the school, I dumped all my stuff in my room, made my bed, and then left again to find my paint I had shipped here a few weeks ago. I was eager to get going because I was already arriving about an hour and a half late into my installation time, and I didn't know how difficult it would be to locate my paint. (no worries because I have "all day" to do my painting. ha ha ha) Fortunately, I went up to the program office and found it easily. The assistant, who reminds me a little of myself in my LMC job, let me into the director's office and gave me my paint. She said, "This is for you."
"Ah, that's exactly what I was coming up here to get," I said.
"We were trying to figure out what was inside," she said feeling the weight of the rather small square box, "We thought it might be a head, but thought that would be rather out of character for you."
"It could be a bowling ball," I said. She laughed. "No, it's a gallon of paint for my exhibit."
She seemed impressed that I would do such a thing.
With paint in hand, I headed over to the gallery. As I walked in and greeted the gallery assistant to ask where my space was, my cohort must have heard my voice.
"She's here!" I heard a voice exclaim. Four of my classmates ran up to me with smiles and hugs as they said "Jaime's here, you guys!" I didn't expect such a warm welcome. They had all arrived the night before, I had just walked off of the red-eye fight.
The installation time is probably one of the most fun things about the residency. Everyone busy working with tools and their work, getting them to hang just right or sit just right, focused, excited. It's a cool experience.
I was of the opinion that I had virtually nothing on the schedule until 7:30 pm. But thanks to my classmates I was informed that we actually had a meeting at 3:30, and here it was almost 12 O' lunch time and I hadn't even started painting. The meeting ended at 5pm, dinner was at 6pm, and the lecture was at 7:30 to 9pm and the gallery would be open until 11pm. When the hell am I going to be able to do this darn exhibit? Stress was wrapping at the chamber door of my mind. Annastacie, my classmate, said she was coming back after the lecture to finish up. I so passionately did not want to be up that late. So I got crackin'. I had to run back to my room to get the painting supplies and my tube. I started doing the trim of the wall, which everyone was impressed I was doing just fine without painter's tape. I told people that I had a lot of practice painting my own house in the past.
I arrived at the meeting, where we all had to introduce ourselves and I was surprised to see much fewer people than last time. Somehow it feels very empty, and I realized the new class starting this semester is very small, only about three or four people.
Every class comes up with a group name, Third semester students are The Breakfast Club, and the graduating class is called Untitled. I had proposed a few months ago Baker's Dozen since there are 13 of us, and it got some positive reaction, so I wonder if it will stick.
After the meeting I had to run back to the gallery and start getting my prints on the wall. Then I ran to dinner, thoroughly starving at that point since I missed lunch, then I ran back to the gallery, finished hanging. I seriously have got to figure out a better way to hang my work that does not involving penetrating the surface of the wall. It is still freaking difficult to hammer the nails into the wall. I don't want to hit the black wall, or the print, which leaves the nail and my thumb as the only acceptable places to hit. People admired my white nails and asked me where I got them. I told them that I had painted them.
Finally got back to my room at 9:15, still needing to unpack. It was about a 41-hour day for me. Okay, and just so you know. Ice is really slippery.
Jaime - 1 Airlines - 0
I sat on the plane and overheard a conversation, “Hey man, how’s school?” Another dude replied, “Man, school is school. Same old shit.” I understood this sentiment and felt bad that education has to be like that. I had a moment of thankfulness that I am in a program that is truly not the same old shit and is much more inspiring and even—dare I say it—fun?
I had the middle seat between, you guessed it, two burly men. The guy on my right was a Joisy native and asked me where I was going. When I answered he replied, “Vermont! I hope you have nice boots!” I pointed out my crazy shoes I happened to be wearing in the cramped leg space of my seat. He said, “You made exactly the right call. Those are perfect.” He even recognized the brand, and said they were the best. Good research and purchasing skills from Ganesh, once again.
I felt hopeless about getting any sleep on the plane given the cramped and uncomfortable circumstances. So I put my headphones on and listened to my audio book. Then, the captain announced we would have some heavy turbulence. Much like the baby Prime Minister, the combination of the vigorous jostling and incessant talking from the audio book put me right to sleep and I slept for about 3 hours. When I awoke I literally could not move my neck, I had to ever so slowly turn from side to side and stretch my cramped muscles.
When I landed, I had to take a bus to the other terminal for my second flight. Since the airlines confiscated everyone’s luggage, many people were stuck outside in the cold at 5 am. It was cold, people. But I happened to be wearing my bulky snow coat, a decision no one else seemed to make, and I was toasty warm, much to the envy of everyone around me.
Jaime - 2 Airlines - 0 Winter - 0
As I arrived at the school, I dumped all my stuff in my room, made my bed, and then left again to find my paint I had shipped here a few weeks ago. I was eager to get going because I was already arriving about an hour and a half late into my installation time, and I didn't know how difficult it would be to locate my paint. (no worries because I have "all day" to do my painting. ha ha ha) Fortunately, I went up to the program office and found it easily. The assistant, who reminds me a little of myself in my LMC job, let me into the director's office and gave me my paint. She said, "This is for you."
"Ah, that's exactly what I was coming up here to get," I said.
"We were trying to figure out what was inside," she said feeling the weight of the rather small square box, "We thought it might be a head, but thought that would be rather out of character for you."
"It could be a bowling ball," I said. She laughed. "No, it's a gallon of paint for my exhibit."
She seemed impressed that I would do such a thing.
With paint in hand, I headed over to the gallery. As I walked in and greeted the gallery assistant to ask where my space was, my cohort must have heard my voice.
"She's here!" I heard a voice exclaim. Four of my classmates ran up to me with smiles and hugs as they said "Jaime's here, you guys!" I didn't expect such a warm welcome. They had all arrived the night before, I had just walked off of the red-eye fight.
The installation time is probably one of the most fun things about the residency. Everyone busy working with tools and their work, getting them to hang just right or sit just right, focused, excited. It's a cool experience.
I was of the opinion that I had virtually nothing on the schedule until 7:30 pm. But thanks to my classmates I was informed that we actually had a meeting at 3:30, and here it was almost 12 O' lunch time and I hadn't even started painting. The meeting ended at 5pm, dinner was at 6pm, and the lecture was at 7:30 to 9pm and the gallery would be open until 11pm. When the hell am I going to be able to do this darn exhibit? Stress was wrapping at the chamber door of my mind. Annastacie, my classmate, said she was coming back after the lecture to finish up. I so passionately did not want to be up that late. So I got crackin'. I had to run back to my room to get the painting supplies and my tube. I started doing the trim of the wall, which everyone was impressed I was doing just fine without painter's tape. I told people that I had a lot of practice painting my own house in the past.
I knew that I was missing lunch, but I really didn't know when else I could get a few solid hours to work on this darn wall. I managed to finish the wall with two coats of black at about 3:10. That means I had 20 minutes to get to the meeting, which is just barely enough time to go back to my room and change out of my painting clothes.
I arrived at the meeting, where we all had to introduce ourselves and I was surprised to see much fewer people than last time. Somehow it feels very empty, and I realized the new class starting this semester is very small, only about three or four people.
Every class comes up with a group name, Third semester students are The Breakfast Club, and the graduating class is called Untitled. I had proposed a few months ago Baker's Dozen since there are 13 of us, and it got some positive reaction, so I wonder if it will stick.
After the meeting I had to run back to the gallery and start getting my prints on the wall. Then I ran to dinner, thoroughly starving at that point since I missed lunch, then I ran back to the gallery, finished hanging. I seriously have got to figure out a better way to hang my work that does not involving penetrating the surface of the wall. It is still freaking difficult to hammer the nails into the wall. I don't want to hit the black wall, or the print, which leaves the nail and my thumb as the only acceptable places to hit. People admired my white nails and asked me where I got them. I told them that I had painted them.
Finally got back to my room at 9:15, still needing to unpack. It was about a 41-hour day for me. Okay, and just so you know. Ice is really slippery.
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