Toward the end of my sophomore year, I realized that I could not delay declaring a major anymore. Unable to choose between Government and Art History, I opted for both.
Thinking back, my decision-making at the time was less than logical. It took me so long to come to a final decision for one sole reason—despite that I had loved all the Art History courses I had taken the past three semesters, I couldn’t get past the Studio Art requirement for the major. For some reason, this single course within a major requiring nine others had me doubting my desire to study Art History at all.
The Studio Art requirement is one of the unique aspects of Georgetown’s Art History Department; most schools don’t have such a requirement. The department offers courses across all mediums, from basic photography to intro to oil painting to digital art courses, but despite this abundance of choice, I still questioned the utility of a studio art course in my college career.
It seemed to me that a studio art course would be a waste of my time. I’m not an artist and have no real desire to hone my artistic skills, plus I was quite certain I would probably fail it due to my lack of creative talent. I could not understand why, as an art historian, one would need to experience anything beyond identifying various techniques or stylistic eras. Why would I need to learn how to create works of art myself?
Soon enough, the reality of taking a studio art course was inevitable. In an attempt to get over it as soon as possible, I decided to take it this semester as a sixth course. After debating between a number of options, I settled on an Intro to Acrylic Painting class that fit nicely into my schedule.
It’s only the third week into classes—so I don’t yet know if my stylized smudges will result in a failing grade—but I can now attest that learning the mechanics of creating a piece of art is absolutely not a waste of my time, and has even increased my interest in art and its history. I took art classes when I was younger, but hadn’t done it for years, and I’d never touched acrylic paints (except at the nail salon?). The first week of class was frustrating, to say the least. As I labored over ruler-straight brush strokes and picture-perfect edges, the final product never turned out the way I wanted it to.
My professor told us to not focus on the minutiae of realistic geometry, especially as beginners, and to just try and get the general sense of the object we were trying to paint. As I began to let go of my perfectionism, the process became less stressful and, dare I say, enjoyable. I quickly began to appreciate the beauty of acrylic painting as a form that gives artists the freedom to go back and glob paint over their mistakes—something which, as my professor continuously reminds us, cannot be done in real life.
I still get the occasional snarky comment about how it’s “so college” to be taking an art class instead of ‘real’ classes, but honestly, the few hours I spend in the art studio on the silent second floor of Walsh are an amazing break from the monotony of readings and essays. On those Saturday afternoons when all I want to do is procrastinate from doing my homework, painting is an activity that actually feels productive.
Learning to paint has also given me a deeper appreciation of the art and artists I have long admired. I now know the work that goes into creating those deep, rich hues of red or blue in Mark Rothko’s larger-than-life color-field paintings. Instead of appreciating art solely for its aesthetic qualities, I now look to the labor that goes into the works themselves. It requires meticulous work, always thinking of what your next step will be to create that cohesive, final piece. A painting isn’t just a series of brushstrokes on canvas, it’s hinged on a knowledge of the materials an artist uses; acrylic paints dry really fast while oil paints take longer to set, making it easier to rectify misplaced strokes in the former and to blend colors through layering in the latter. Having finally worked with the medium, I’m finally able to understand the process in addition to the product.
My preference for modern art over classical works has gotten me into regular arguments defending the artistic value of Jackson Pollock’s ‘paint-splattered’ technique or Barnett Newman’s ‘zip’-striped paintings. I always get frustrated with the dime-a-dozen response, “That’s not art. Even I could do that!” After taking this class, I’d like to see them try.
