Showing posts with label bullshit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bullshit. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

CCB+


After a full year at one of the (purportedly) best art schools in the country, here's my admittedly biased but informative "review" of CCA (California College of the Arts).

First, I had no idea what art school might be like or what I might be getting myself in to. Second, I'm a 40-something adult who's already had a successful professional career and who's brain is no longer that malleable or idealistic. I'm also fairly cranky sometimes and love to call Bullshit.

Alrighty - that's out of the way.

I decided to go back to school to *really* learn photography - for reals - after years of teaching myself. Business had been slow, I like to learn, CCA has (had?) a great reputation and they're right in our backyard. Win win win. I took the tour, applied, was accepted and then got my ass handed to me daily for seven months.

Being brand new to art, I had to take the required foundational courses - drawing, color theory and basically, wood shop (D1, 2D and 3D core classes). The 4D core class is not, as I thought, the study of the time/space continuum, but web design and video production.

Thankfully, 17 years in web design & development allowed me to waive the 4D class - not the required units, just that class. I still have to take 3 units somewhere to make up for that, which is bullshit. But onward...

To complete a BFA, the required, full-time semester load is 15 units for most semesters, 18 for a few. If that sounds like a lot, it is. It's a shit ton of a lot. Especially when they pile on the work (busywork) with a fire-hose as if to try to make art school seem like a legitimate academic education, which it isn't. Not when you can bake cookies for your math final. That's not bullshit - a classmate did it.

Still, it's art, and some art, like photography, requires rigorous technique that is best learned through repetition. That makes sense. If I need to shoot and develop 400 rolls of film to get it down, then I'm on it.

The rub is, not only do they want you to burn 400 rolls of film and paint 17 color charts (that you'll never need) and fill up an entire sketch book with what-the-hell-ever and make sculptures out of wood, clay and cardboard - every week - they want all that work to be of the very highest creative quality and craftsmanship.

Really? You want both quantity and quality? Not likely, even with the best circumstances.

I understand the emphasis on the quantity of photographic exercises - it's a science with gobs of technical expertise required. But assigning a photo project then assigning homework on top of that is just stupid. Do you want me to be creative - nay, an "artist" - or do you want me to be a factory worker? Your choice. You're not going to get both - not at the same time.

But still, I tried. I worked my ass off wanting to not just go back to school, but to go back to school and kick ass. I'm happy to say I did OK - I have a 3.6 GPA, which isn't too shabby. I'd hoped to do better, but CCA - sorry, CCB+ - wouldn't have it.

I'd forgotten an important part of school... You don't take classes, you take teachers. Unfortunately, CCB+ has some terribly unqualified, awful teachers. They might be brilliant artists, but they don't know jack about teaching, which equates to a big waste of your time and money. It fucks with your head, too, which is worse.

In some classes, it doesn't matter how hard you work or how brilliant your work is. If they're too stupid to remember where they parked their cars, it's not going to matter.

That actually happened. One of my teachers didn't know where her car was parked one morning, causing her to be really late to class. Another morning she dropped her keys into a storm drain and instead of finding a way to let her class know that she'd be over an hour late, she went about fashioning a key-retrieval device while we all waited (and napped) in the classroom.

At our midterm check-in meeting she made sure to let me know that I had one tardy.

This, from the scholar who after every mind-numbingly boring PowerPoint bullet would say, "Does that make sense?" as if she truly didn't know.

She meant well, but it was her first year as an instructor and she was painfully insecure and ineffective. She made a pretty good babysitter, but she has a long way to go to becoming a solid teacher.

I received almost no useful feedback from her on how to improve my work - she largely ignored me while spending lots of time critiquing work by other students that was often done the night before class. She didn't mind these same students sleeping through her lectures while the rest of us were distracted by their heads bobbing up and down.

This past semester I had a drawing teacher who was so bad, I wish I'd have dropped the class and just watched Youtube videos about drawing. In one night David showed me more about how to draw something than I'd learned the entire semester up to that point. She also had the rude habit of impatiently drawing over your work without asking if she could, while attempting to teach you something, which she didn't.

Her curriculum was disorganized and goofy. Supposed to be a foundational, first-year, never-drawn-anything-before kind of class, she had us using pastels the first day. I'm still pissed about that. But, to her credit, she let me bake a cake for my final. That's right. A cake. For a drawing final. And it was delicious. Got a B+ in her class.

Which brings me to my point... No matter how hard I worked on any project - most of the time I received B+'s. Even projects I knew were A+ quality - forget it. You can't BUY an A at that school, unless it's the art history classes, and even still, you have to show up and do well on the tests and properly write the papers - there's no skating even in the easier classes.

In my digital photo class, I killed myself on the first project and received a B+. When I asked why only a B+, I was told I could have done more. Isn't that true of almost everything? How bout a little something, you know, for the effort? It was almost technically flawless and perfectly executed based on the requirements, but yet, I could have done more...

On another project I absolutely nailed it - totally killed, above & beyond amazing - and got an A-. The grading sheet had no negative comments whatsoever - all glowing remarks. I again had to ask for the input that would allow me to understand how one might attain an A -- not an A+, no one's being greedy here -- just a good, solid A.

Only then did she tell me that some of my prints could have been better or something to that effect. Honestly, I'm not sure she really knew because she never made notes in class so I'm not sure she even remembered whose projects were whose or how good or bad they may have been. She was another first year teacher (in an upper div class). She was better than others, but not great.

I did have a few good instructors in a few classes that made it all almost worth it. I say almost because CCA is really fugging expensive. And I don't know why. I don't know why CCA can charge almost as much Stanford and get away with it.

CCA's retention rate is 72%, compared with 98% for Stanford. CCA's graduation rate is 50%. Stanford's is 95%. Stanford charges about $38K a year, and CCA about $36K.

Sure, CCA and Stanford are two totally different schools - but, which degree is going to help you get farther in life? And why are so many kids (or 40-something adults) not graduating from CCA?

Could it be, the product is just too expensive and not really worth it? The overall value of CCA is suspect. It's a teeny tiny campus with under 2,000 students and a 9-1 student-to-faculty ratio. And there are never enough classes to choose from to build a good semester schedule.

Stanford has just under 20,000 - that's twenty *thousand* - students, has a huge campus and a 10-1 student-to-faculty ratio. RISD costs the same as Stanford but also has similar retention and graduation rates as Stanford.

What is costing so much at CCA? They're definitely not spending money on tampons. Is having a glass blowing facility really that expensive? Is that even a job anywhere anymore, except maybe at a Shakespeare festival?

Seriously. Why is CCA so expensive?

I would love to finish the rest of my BFA photo program and have that degree in-hand - proof of all the hard work and commitment, but at the same time, given the sub-par level of instruction in most classes (so far), the ridiculously high unit requirement (which means more money for CCA but not necessarily more knowledge for you) and the overall cost (in time and cash), I'm not sure it's worth it. As of now, I'm not seeing the value.

When I first went to college so many years ago, starting at De Anza in Cupertino, which by comparison is almost free, the classes were rigorous, the instructors whip smart and they couldn't have cared less whether we showed up to class or not. It was our time and our money. When I transferred to San Francisco State I expected to be slammed by "real" college. What a surprise - De Anza was harder - a much better school in many ways.

At CCB+, attendance is mandatory or your instructor can fail you - after only three absences. If you're late three times, that can be counted as an unexcused absence. Even if the student body is mostly comprised of immature freaks who couldn't get into a real school (myself included), they're not going to give anyone the chance to rise to the challenge and be expected to act like an adult. The babysitting culture of high school continues in the first year at CCB+, which is disappointing.

But next semester will show me a little more of what CCB+ might have to offer. I'll be in more advanced classes - all the foundational shit is behind me - and I'll be in a writing class (if I can add it - of course it was full when I was able to register). I hear nothing but good things about the writing program, so I'm encouraged about that.

In the meantime, I need to continue researching vandal-proof tampon/pad dispensers and decide if this is really the path I want to stay on.

I'd hoped to find knowledge as well as inspiration, and maybe even a mentor somewhere - someone who might want to take an interest in my work and help push me in one direction or another. So far, no one seems to give a shit unless you're late on your tuition - then you're going to hear from someone.

If you're thinking about going to art school, realize it's pretty much like any other school but likely has a shit ton more pretentiousness and bullshit than you might want to pay for. But you can also bake cakes and make pretty pictures instead of writing boring term papers.

Saturday, July 17, 2010

Fugging Hormones


Boy, is it fun being a woman in her early forties. All that's missing is the funnel cake and the Main Street Electrical Parade.

Every month something else changes - nothing is stable anymore. Just when I think I've adjusted to the new routine, it changes again.

There used to be a predictable schedule - recognizable events, which now are a jumble and occur at seemingly random times of the month.

No longer can I expect my face to asplode with fantastic zits a week before The Bleed - now it happens throughout the month, whenever it feels like it.

The Bleed starts, stops, then - Surprise! - returns for a day or so just in case I was starting to miss it.

No longer am I moody and depressed for just a few days before my period - now it's pretty much throughout the month. Most days, if I didn't have to leave the house for work or other critical reasons, like for coffee, I'd never change out of my fleece robe.

Now, in just the last couple of months, I'm having trouble falling asleep at night. Me. The one my family was certain had narcolepsy, the one who could sleep anywhere (and most of the time still can).

When I get into bed at night, tired and sleepy and happy to indulge in 7 hours on the Tempurpedic, I lie there wide awake. Thinking about nothing. Just awake. Not asleep. Not even close. Sometimes for over an hour.

And the newest event I'm not at all pleased with - one morning a few weeks ago I woke up soaking wet. That was neat. I'd been swimming laps in bed. Or maybe I'd just peed myself. A lot. All over. What a lovely way to start the day.

This is just straight up bullshit. All of it. I don't want any part of it.

I am not Suzanne Somers with limitless access to personal physicians who can administer delicious bioidentical hormones in the perfect amounts to stave this off for however long. That would be nice... I wonder if Blue Shield covers that.

For now, I stand in the vitamin aisle at Trader Joe's reading the back of the Estroven package unwilling to put it in the basket, thinking Not yet... I'm only 43... I can't need this... yet...

Monday, May 03, 2010

Sh*t and Shinola

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The other day my father gave me an article on Glenn Beck, or as I like to call him, Grim Dreck. I grimaced and he said, "Oh now you HAVE to keep an open mind!" I agreed, but at the same time, when it comes to something like Dreck, no one needs an open mind. There's shit and there's shinola. Glenn Beck is straight up shit - no further examination needed.

Out of respect for Pa, I skimmed the article - from Forbes - about the kajillions of dollars Dreck makes by duping his mouth-breathing fans.

Much like his Fox cohort Douche Lamebag, Dreck was a total fuckup for years - couldn't keep a job, addicted to drugs & hooch - then somebody gave him a job in radio and he found his calling: spewing useless bullshit sold as perspective, which somehow found an audience that couldn't tell it was really just a heaping pile of steaming cow dung. (i.e. "entertainment")

The article talks about his live shows, which he does no preparation for other than to choose a few photographs of people whose names he doesn't know to project on a screen behind him. He relies on a full-time staff of over 30 people to wipe his ass and tell him the names of the people in the photographs he uses in his "show." A show people pay good money for.

He thinks so little of his audience and the value of their time and money, he doesn't prepare a quality product to deliver to them. All he cares about is how much money he's making. If that doesn't tell you that anything coming out of his mouth is suspect, I don't know what will.

He says it best himself: "I could give a flying crap about the political process." Making money, on the other hand, is to be taken very seriously, and controversy is its own coinage. "We're an entertainment company," Beck says.

I kept an open mind and read the article, only to learn more about this Piece of Shit that I didn't want to know. It was a waste of valuable time. Time someone like Grim Dreck does not deserve.

Keeping an open mind does not require wasting time on shit that you already know is shit, unless shit is what you want - like watching The Real Housewives of Orange County. That is some crazy, brain-cell-killing shit, but sometimes I like that sort of shit.

What I don't like is a pompous, self-absorbed Piece of Shit trying to tell me some shit like it's the shit, when it's really total bullshit.

People like Dreck and Lamebag don't provide anything useful - the shit they spew is totally counterproductive (though fantastic fodder for Comedy Central). They're here to line their own pockets, sadly at the expense of people who don't realize that all they're selling is bullshit.

To my dad's credit, he later mailed me this article from the San Francisco Bay Guardian, about just how unfair & unbalanced the right-wing media machine is. I'm sure he gets it, too, but just watching Fox Gnus for five minutes tells you everything you need to know about it and why it should be avoided.

So Dad, thanks, but there's no need to send me any more articles about these shitbags. Keeping an open mind isn't about the shit you listen to on the radio or the articles you like to read, it's about what you're willing to consider in the big picture, based on what you believe to be true for you and the world we live in (everyone, not just conservatives, liberals, mouth-breathers or Real Housewives), without anyone else's voice in your head telling you how or what to think.

Thursday, July 24, 2008

Fraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaak

I need to go to sleep and wake up in Canada, all moved and settled in whilst I was snoozing. Doing all this by myself is bullllllshit. Not feeling so positive today, obviously. I'm overwhelmed and every time I turn around there's another issue/problem/whining cat/deranged garage sale lady.

A few days after the garage sale, which was a couple of weekends ago, a weird lady came back to the house asking for a transformer for a lamp she bought. I should have told her then I wouldn't go looking for it and I should have shoved a $5 bill into her crabby, wrinkled mouth.

But I thought we might actually have it somewhere, so I told her I'd see if I could find it and asked if she lived in town. She said she didn't and that she'd be back the next day. Great! After she left I closed the curtains and locked the porch screen door.

Sure enough, she came back the next day and when she couldn't get the screen door open, she knocked/clawed at the front window. Funny, but that will never make me want to come to the door, so I kept working and eventually she left.

She came back again when I was actually not home and left a friggin' note on the door. I'm no accountant, but if she doesn't live relatively close by, she's just spent another $5 making repeated trips to my house.

I'd have gladly given her money back the first time, but I honestly thought she'd find the transformer on eBay or elsewhere, rather than keep stinging me like an angry wasp.

Came home today after a shoot and guess what was sitting on my porch? The goddamn lamp she bought with a self-addressed, stamped envelope taped to it. I know what you're thinking because it was my first thought, too - What should I send her in that little envelope?

Of course I'll do the right thing and send her money back, but it might be graphically enhanced and very securely taped to another piece of paper, or it could end up soaked in tuna oil right before it makes it into the envelope, because these things happen sometimes.

What a giant waste of time and energy. She must be a joy to live with. Speaking of joys, people have GOT to stop walking in front of the lens when I'm trying to photograph their goddamn properties.

Do you not see the big tripod and the shit attached to the top of it that makes the pretty pictures? Do you think we can just photoshop out the blurred vision of you obscuring the view, oblivious to the rest of the world and the people in it? Is my job somehow not as important as yours?

Unfortunately, because I'm a jangled mess of nerves right now, I actually told a guy today to please stop walking in front of the camera and to either come up or go down the stairs - one or the other, because I need to get the shot and move on.

Speaking of moving on... I had the flying dream again last night, but sadly, I was flying in and around a house to survey the best shots. Right after that, I was talking to Jennifer Aniston at a party. She'd had a major face lift and was still in recovery. As one might expect, she was aloof and not at all as friendly as you might hope she'd be.