When I was a painting major at Cal State L.A. in 1988, two professors pretty much told me I wasn’t much of a painter.
Lydia Takeshita was blunt: “You are not an artist. You are a writer. Quit making art and write.”
The other, Dan Douke, was kinder, but gave the same message, during a critique, he looked at my painting thoughfully and announced to the entire class, “This painting is a monumental achievement. It is the single worst painting I have ever seen. It might be the only masterpiece a student of mine has ever produced. It is a masterpiece of awfulness.”
Given the chance to get my revenge of Professor Douke, I instead took the high road in this feature essay for November’s ArtScene Magazine, as i have always liked Douke’s art, regardless of the accuracy of his comments about mine.