He said
You're like a feather,
blown around by the wind.
And though surprised,
She hadn't questioned him.
These were the first words he'd had with her since the initial interview, in which he'd rudely asked outright whether she'd come to find a husband. Completely thrown by this idea, she hesitated, it was awkward because although she'd been told her drawings were good, she was really running away from something, rather than towards anything
Taking my own hand and walking myself back there, I give myself voice;
Well if I seem like a feather, blown around by the wind, it's maybe just because I consider things deeply. I listen to people, try to understand them, sometimes even try their ideas out for a bit.
But look around you. This is me. I've worked hard and constantly. In a different institution, even a different department, I might have done better and you could have helped and guided me more in this one. Intervened, maybe even just had a couple of conversations, but you just watched me stew and struggle. You didn't do your job properly and that's the truth. I have produced a body of work here that reflects my inner struggle and here, after all these years of no helpful interventions by you, my teacher, that's all you have to say about me.
I suppose this is when he would say - you could have come to me. My door is always open.
Bitter ?
My anger has been dissipated over the years. Life has a way of teaching you what's really important and worth losing sleep over. And I know that anyone who has been through the art mill is scarred by it. It's like being thrown to the lions every day, so when I look at people creating and producing stuff, I feel for them and I applaud them, whether they've been through the same mill as me or not.
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