These walls cannot contain me

My high school has an Art Honor Society. Most weeks it's open studio, free to anyone who can stay after school on Thursdays. And yeah, most weeks we fingerpaint and waste paper and paint and pastels.

But this week, Mr.R, the art teacher, asked if any of us would be interesting in creating a mural.

-mu*ral-
[myoor-uhl] –noun
1. a large picture painted or affixed directly on a wall or ceiling.

The subject of the mural is us. Not even us, as in the 10 or so people who volunteered to do it, but us as in the school.

What is it like to be us? What matters to us?

I mean, this week we had the first ever black president elected. That's serious history. But is it us? No. Only a few seniors can vote, and the mural 'team' is freshman/sophmore. Sure, it affects us, but we can't affect it. We care, but we can't really do anything.

We came up with:
-Diversity
-Unity
-Technology
-College/Future
-Not knowing what direction to move in, but having to move anyways
-Apathy
-Awareness
-Music
-Maturity
-Reputation

We don't know the dimensions or location of the mural yet, so I'm not really sure what it'll look like or anything. Actually, we don't even know if we can do a mural yet. The principal can say, 'Sure, do a mural, Hey, do five!' or he can just tell us to get back in the classroom and mess with charcoal.

I'm kinda apprehensive about it, but still excited to participate a group art piece.

It's a wall. But it's /art/.

So yeah. The sketches are due next week.

-m

It's all a matter of smarts.

People have this huge thing about intelligence here.

It gets you places, unless it gets you nowhere. And if it gets you nowhere, you're screwed and should just kill yourself.



Yeah. Trying to sound profound in the first blog. Not happening.
-m