Page 12 - Demo

I had many positive experiences at Western during my four years there. I admired most of my instructors and, occasionally, one would ask if they could have one of my pieces. Each time, I said I was honored they liked it, but I was attached to my work and wanted to keep it for myself. In an advanced textile class, I created a wool hooked-yarn belt with a buckle I hand-carved out of wood. My professor was so impressed, she asked if she could ship it to a textile exhibit in Traverse City. I was flattered, agreed and, after a couple of months, my belt was safely returned. of theft to the department head, it would have been her word against mine. So, I did nothing. There were also a few uncomfortable situations that were common for many women back then. One of my life-drawing teachers would often put his hands on a female nude model. And he once announced that, %u201cNo woman can be a real artist. Art is based on the female nude, and only men can be inspired by the female nude. Why don%u2019t all you women in my class just quit right now. You%u2019re Then came an unfortunate incident in my second design course, which covered various movements from the past, such as Art Deco and Art Nouveau, as well as contemporary ones like Pop Art. One assignment involved creating an Op Art piece on a large sheet of poster board. Mine contained elaborate, swirling designs of very thin hand-painted lines in 2 alternating colors%u2014deep green and deep red. Being complimentary (directly opposite on a color wheel), they were particularly difficult to work with. My eyes were subject to a great deal of strain as I spent hour after hour, sitting on the floor of my dorm room, painting minute vibrating strokes of color. The more tired I got, the less I was able to focus, and I started getting nauseous. But I persevered, finished the assignment, and turned it in on time. After about a week, when I went to pick it up, my teacher had a strange smile on her face. She said I should be pleased that she had entered my piece in a show, and someone had liked it so much, they%u2019d stolen it. To say I was stunned would be an understatement. I knew there hadn%u2019t been enough time for an exhibit to have been staged, and any reputable venue would have had insurance for such losses. I immediately concluded that there had been no exhibit, and that she was the thief. As I looked at her, I could tell that she knew, that I knew, what the truth was. But what could I do? If I accused her all going to be wives, teachers, or stewardesses anyway.%u201d Along with the other young women in his class, I simply ignored his comments. A ceramics professor was well known for never giving females a grade above C%u2014to discourage them from majoring in it%u2014so I was quite pleased to receive a B. Another life drawing teacher offered me a ride back to my dorm after class and I innocently accepted. Instead, he took me to his private studio to see his artwork. Feeling ill-at-ease, I asked him to take me home as he%u2019d promised, which he promptly did. Later, when I went to his office to ask about a B I was given, instead of the A I expected, he locked his office door, and offered a couple of inane reasons for the grade. After an awkward silence, he let me out, but he never changed my grade. Perhaps, if I%u2019d been %u201cfriendlier,%u201d I%u2019d have gotten the grade I deserved. Fortunately, these incidents were aberrations, and most of my instructors were professional and caring.I thoroughly enjoyed learning about all aspects of art, and I also devoured all the courses I took outside of my major%u2014such as Physical Geography, Chinese Culture, and Sociology. In particular, I learned about philosophy, theories of rational thinking, peak experiences, and much more%u2014all in a Speech 101 Hand-built ceramic pot. 1970 Hand-built ceramic vase. 1970