I don't know how I feel about art school anymore.
The older I get, the more transparent thing become and my student loans for art school have me questioning was it worth it? Would I still be the bad ass artist I am today, had I not went in dept for other artist to tell me that I'm an artist. I mean I was told that those that can not do art, teach art and I sort of believe that now as I watch my fellow artist let art school cut their balls off and send them out with no confidence in their own work. It's like they spay and neuter artist, and that's what they are there to do, make less competition for themselves, by spreading your legs and snip snip. I mean I can't tell the sun how to shine because the sun shines from the inside out. So how the fuck can I tell someone else as a professor/artist how to create the work that they have inside of them FOR A PRICE. No doubt, I believe there are those inspirational speakers and someone that knows the game can tell you how to make your work better, but at the cost of thousands of dollar in dept. If I was a successful artist AND I AM, I would not be teaching, I mean, one people don't fucking listen, especially artist. Wait did I tell you I hate artist. Fucking artist, every bodies a fucking artist. I'm an artist and I hate it, but I have confidence, balls, dedication, experience, blood, sweat, tears and debt in what I am doing, what I create, and what I have to offer my audience. Everyday someone comes up to me and say's I'm an artist, and I say oh really, what do you do? But what I should start saying is" can you teach me! get on my knees and unzip there pants, then look up with a smile." Like I really give a nut, what they do, but it's important to rub artist egos, they are very sensitive. But back to why I hate art school. They don't teach artist how to have confidence in what they do. Artist will produce no matter what, that's what artist need to understand and get that through that tough meat they refer to as a brain. I mean if I went to school or not I would be still producing artwork. I do now, and I'm out of school and forever will be whether I'm making money or not. So it would be a no brainer to say, since I can't make money off of my art, I should make money off of other artist by placing myself in a position of power, and delay my competition by teaching them the things that helped me fail while I try to get my shit together. I went to a lecture and the shit talking made a very good point. Everything you learn from a professor, in art school, is twenty to thirty years old, because you are learning what your professor's professor taught them. I do feel there is a need for art schools, programs, internships, apprentice, art education, appreciation, inspiration, radiation, emancipation, proclamation. It's not that I'm shitting on the teachers although that was my intent (as an artist), but there needs to be a reevaluation of the tuition structure on an institution that puts out artist that produce work that is judged by it's audience, stuff that is subjectional to who ever looks at it, and the price tag on it is determined by what, and how much someone is willing to pay for it. So I want to open a new school of art, in which I reneut your members and unspay your woohaa. Take the er off of neuter and put it on the front of neut. Let me reestablish your balls, so you too can say, "fuck you, don't buy my art, I know it's good and it's your loose, not mine, plus I can paint another one, what the fuck can you do." One of my favorite rappers said it best " I don't let nobody (double negative) judge me, that don't know how to do what I do, so if you don't like it, well fuck you" Freddie Fox aka Bumpy Knuckles
I'll leave you with some inspirational music
Friday Night South Atlanta Stage.
Some how I keep myself surrounded by good people with a knack for finding the best of Atlanta. A friend Kelly Callahan invited us out for a quint evening of soulful maladies, on this Memorial Weekend, and oh did she have a surprise for we. As we arrived in this neighborhood in South Atlanta, which looked like your common older neighborhood with houses built around the 1920-50s, along came this beacon of light. As you began to get closer you notice this lilac colored house with branches painted across the entire side and in the vacant lot beside sits a round stage with two large wooden poles with lights hanging from them. There were wood benches for people to sit on but most people brought blankets, snacks and adult beverages to cool their pallet. We parked the car and were introduced to a cadre of people all with the intention of being barefoot and dancing by the end of the night(which we were half way into the night). Our first to enter the circle of sound was Mieka Pauley. 
The soothness, sultry, seductive, projective voice of hers penetrates your body with each sound wave, and carries you. Her voice was heavy, full of volume while floating like a beacon at sea. Before she finished her set a fan from the crowd kept screaming "do a song with MARSHAL!!!!" so she ask Marshal to get on up and join her. It reminded me of those Sunday evening at my grannies house, when my mom and uncles would gather up the hood in the garage and have a jam session throughout the night. When accompanied by Marshal, Mieka's performance turn the volume up to about 20 from 10. Not to say anything bad about Mieka just seemed that Marshal brought out the best in her abilities as well. They were like Venus and Serena playing each other for the championship, or like Bonnie and Clyde becoming outlaws of the soundwaves. Marshal stayed on staged and performed one song "my mama's dead" and basically stole the whole damn show. This dude had people stopping their trucks in the middle of the road, rolling down their windows to listen in awe as he strummed on his guitar and carried the tunes of an old blues singer, this mofo was possessed, he might as well start floating around the stage. 
Last to take the stage was Gedeon Luke & The People. Gedeon (go-don) Luke had the presence of a reverend taking the pulpit, with the choir already clapping and swaying. You know how the preacher just slides in on one foot and joins the synchronized side to side motion of the choir. He took the stage like a double dutch jump roper and continued his message of love. His music seemed inspired by the likes of Sly and the Family Stone, Al Green and of course the Godfather of Soul JB.
All I can say its thank you Atlanta.
