As I take a break from my work, I lean my
forehead against my bent knees. My feet are
resting on the white tile– Funny how that is,
considering where we are. I’m surprised the
floor hasn’t already been covered with color,
residue, or any leftover messes.
There’s chit chatter all around me—hadn’t
noticed it before. To my left, a teacher is
commenting on a student’s assignment,
“The hue there can be a little more saturated”
A loud bang makes me turn my head to the back
of me. A girl has plopped her bag full of 14 x 12
canvases, “I never thought small canvases could be
this heavy ‘til carrying this whole lot”
In the corner, another kneels down in front of her
triptych, one hand is on a knee while the other
holds a paintbrush. Next to the doors beside her
sits a guy lost in thought, looking back and forth from
small tattered photograph and his work. His nose is
almost pressed up against it. The smell of burnt wax and
sawdust hits my nostrils. I breathe in a sigh.
Another day in art school.
-Sarah Veloso 2012