Left the house for work and was nearly knocked down at the corner by two men on bikes, riding on the pavement, at speed - who then told me to fuck off. I was very close to pushing both bikes over, into the road, under a bus, with both riders - but that would have made 'me' the bad guy. As a result - today is ruined - as it just reminded me of every time anyone has ever taken the piss out of me. I'm now at the studio - attempting to get into the right frame of mind to work and open loads of sinister looking envelopes.
There was a thing on the radio yesterday about design education, lots of people ringing up saying that they didn't need a degree, lots of employers saying education was a waste of time, and lots of X students ringing up saying that they couldn't get a job in their chosen field. As far as the students were concerned - they seemed to feel they have an entitlement to a job of their choice - one chap who had studied animation - but clearly with no real passion, complained that he could only get jobs at places like Ardman - and thought that it was too repetitive and 'factory' - he seemed to have a very poor grasp on what animation was. The problem is not education - but the wrong kind of education - most courses are staffed by X designers who see them as a refuge from the industry and are no loner practitioners, so they cannot engage with industry themselves and fail to engage the students. The Employers who had called in to complain about graduates had clearly picked all the wrong ones, the smiling, bright, clear skinned middle-class kids who have over supportive parents and no real passion for the subject - the kids they should have employed are slaving away at fast-food outlets paying off their debts and resentful that they didn't have the connections to help them make their way in the world.
I watched a film called a 'Bit Of Scarlett' last night on my subscription channel. It was supposed to be a study of representations of gay characters hidden in British Film over the decades. It was rubbish, poorly edited, silly, camp, showy and very badly researched - there were some very obvious choices, a lot of things missing - and quite a few bits that shouldn't have been there but edited to 'fit' the directors theme. Ian McKellern narrated, occasionally - this may have been how it got funded - probably over the phone, from prompt cards.
The Xmas lights in Hastings are actually... not that bad.
I had a glass of wine last night - first in a very long time - my teeth feel like they have been stripped with bleach today. I won't bother again.
Someone I vaguely know has been given a large publishing deal to produce something I should have thought of myself. I'm very happy for them - but really, that's about the third time I've seen someone beat me to the post on something like this.
3 comments:
For many, many years I have considered the art education system to be run for it's own benefit and not the students. Take on as many students as possible, give them a perfunctory grasp of one small area and then throw them out, on to the next. Cynical barely covers it.
One friend,a mature student, entered a London college showing impressive promise and was played with by her lecturers, obviously complete twerking shits, three years later after all the clever mind games her final show consisting of sheets of paper pencilled black. What purpose other than reassuring some stupid lecturer that any skilled intention or talent was threatening and should be erased.
I could fill a book with similar horror stories, I taught Foundation at camberwell in the late '90s - when Goldsmiths was very fashionable and it was all about 'Young, British, Sexy, Conceptual art' - the fine art department ruined every student that they taught - made them into gibbering idiots and disciples of their own failed ideas from a decade before - 18 year olds woukd repeatedly tell me that they refused to be taught by a 'designer' because they were a 'conceptual' artist and superior to me - most of them were spoilt little middle class idiots - but some were genuinely gifted, but doomed to fail already.
Funnily enough this friend , who wasn't middle class or young but talented, intelligent and of a sensitive disposition, went to Camberwell around that time to do a new fine art 'drawing' course.
It was in my opinion a horror story of complete and utter wickedness (old fashioned meaning). Of course I didn't and couldn't reveal my humble view to my friend.
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