“Shall we get started?” the director asked us.
We both nodded, turning to the students.
“Now, please remember to keep all questions respectful. We will go back and forth, starting from the quote, professionals.”
That got a few soft boos from what I guessed would be called the “creatives.”
A female student, her hair pulled into a tight ponytail, dressed in black slacks and a button-down blouse, stood. “My question is for Dr. Davenport.” Her gaze focused on him. “Do you not believe that, due to media, this generation is especially deluded about the life of the artist?”
There were a few groans and mutters at her question, but they all waited for him to speak. I watched him relax in his chair as a small grin crept onto his lips.
“Of course,” he said.
I was tempted to close my ears to the round of trash he would most likely spit out next.
“I mean, is it really possible for every last one of you in this room to become the next Anselm Kiefer or Lady Gaga? No. The thing about any type of art is: it’s not in your control. No matter what, your livelihood depends on whether or not you are, one: noticed, and two: popular. I’m sure there are many artists just as good as Ms. Poe, if not better, but none of them were noticed. Unlike in the professional world, where if you are the best in your field, you will get the recognition you deserve.”
How that bullshit answer got any applause worried me for the future of our country. “Am I allowed to respond to this?” I asked the director into the mic.
“Please.”
I sighed, rolling up my sleeves. “I told myself I would try to hold back, because often when I lay down the truth, people get hurt.” I grinned at the laughter filling the room.
“Anytime, Ms. Poe,” he said from beside me, taking a drink of his water.
“Well, Dr. Davenport, your statement highlights the fundamental difference between us. You look for recognition in your work. And don’t get me wrong, I’m sure you love what you do, but I’m also sure you don’t go into work every day hoping to save as many lives as possible. It’s about making a name for yourself. For people like me, I couldn’t give a damn if someone knows my accomplishments. My art isn’t for anyone but myself. When I paint, or take a photo, I’m expressing the innermost parts of myself. That is all the satisfaction I need. It may seem scary for all you people who need a path to walk, and the ten steps of becoming whatever, but for us, we artists make our own path, and set our own goals and limits. We are living a technicolor life, my friend.”
“Boom!” someone yelled from my side of the hall, and I winked in that direction.
“Next question.” The director pointed to someone from the creative side.
He stood. “My question is for Ms. Poe,” he said when he was given a mic.
I remembered taking a picture with him; his hot pink mohawk was hard to miss. I nodded, sitting up.
“How do you feel about how the educational system focuses on the sciences while cutting the art budget once again?”
“I’m ashamed. I’m living in a culture that has disillusioned itself into believing that the focus on arts is no longer needed. An artist designed that NYU shirt you are wearing, and an artist spent time creating the layout of this hall. Art is in everything, and without realizing it, the educational system is chipping away at the core of itself.”
“I concur, to a degree.” Eli faced the student. “However, a focus on the sciences is in fact more important, not only for our economy, but also our overall status as a society. America is ranked thirty-first in mathematics and twenty-third in the sciences. How can we not place a focus on that? If you want to be an artist, fine, but why does that translate into not understanding chemistry? So many students give up and say, ‘I’m more artistic, I don’t need to learn this.’”
“Well on that note, when was last time you painted anything or were creative, Dr. Davenport?” I cut in, forcing him to look at me. “What you are saying is that artists should be well-rounded, and I don’t find fault in that, but what about professionals? How many students take an art class for an easy A and don’t actually learn to draw? When was last time you were an artist, Dr. Davenport?”
He nodded. “Touché.”
“Next question.”
Another guy stood, dressed in a sweater vest, bow tie, and glasses. “My question is for Dr. Davenport. I also want to become a doctor, though I'm not sure what I want to specialize in. I know the next four years of my life will be medical school, and after that, internships and whatnot. So I was wondering, how do you find time to date? Or is that not even a possibility until after I’m finished with school?”
The moment he asked, my head whipped to Eli. Even though he laughed alongside a few other students, I could tell how uncomfortable he was.
“I’m sorry, dumb question…”