Sex on Canvas

I'm going to put a cautionary note that this may not be suitable for people under the age of 18, but it's not like I can stop you from reading, so use your best judgement.

When I first got into art school, I thought that I would be learning how to paint and draw from life. I figured I might get a model at some point, but I really had no idea what to really expect. After all, "art school" is a really vague term. But as I sat down in my first class with the most obscure name in the world (Idea Process Criticism), I began to think, this might actually be fun. And then they asked, "Draw ten things you think of when I say the word, 'love,' and then write ten words for the same thing." And so I innocently drew a heart and probably a smiley face, and god knows what other flowery things. And then I wrote a couple words like "soul mates." And then after about twenty minutes she had us tack our results up on the walls. What I was greeted with, I was not ready for. Clearly, the rest of the word had converted itself into the art school environment long before I had, because if I could count the number of penises on that bulletin board, I would need more than two hands. And the class seemed to continue to challenge me like that. Now, you may laugh, but it sure as hell didn't end there. In fact, this one little shocking moment was just the tip of the ice berg. Not even half a semester later, I was in a printmaking class and there was a girl who's entire body of works related to her vagina. It was extremely graphic, and so the one or two boys in that class spent the entire critique attempting to be fascinated with the sink next to her, only to squirm when they were finally asked what they thought of her piece. The fact is, sex is a huge part of art culture. For women, it's called feminist art, which is in my opinion a load of crap. Whether its a painting symbolizing a sexual organ or a photograph of a nude woman, there is no censor here. Even in my film class, my instructor has a strange fetish for sex. Pull out a hot dog, a bun, pour sauce on it, and you've got a dude sticking "it" in a girl (yes, there really was an animation like that). But no matter how uncomfortable you are with the idea of talking about sex in a public setting... after a while, it's just water under the bridge like everything else. Although, I have to say that I still have trouble looking my thirty-some year-old art history professor in the eyes when he starts talking about how this one patron Saint statue was supposed to be having an orgasm.

Still, I have never had anyone, teacher or student, come up to me and tell me to do something sexual in my pieces. People in art college are far more perceptive than people outside it. While they may not spare you from the conversations, they can tell if you aren't really into it. Tell that to an all-conforming state school and you might get thrown out for failure to become a mindless drone. I jest, but it's kind of true. But my real point is, even within the very real insanity that is art school, there is a small form of maturity that can't be found anywhere else. And once you attend an art college, you will never be the same again.

~ C.Mitchell