Thesis #1: part of the experience of being an Artist (do not capital “a”) is not being understood.
Thesis #2: part of the experience of being a teenager is not being understood.
If these two states are additive, then a high school artist would be completely unintelligible. If, however, we’re in the “two wrongs make a right” and “two rights make a left” school of thought, then high school art would tend to be completely transparent. I really think this time around that’s more the case.
Now please put on some Depeche Mode (what, too dated?), a black tee shirt, and don’t speak to your parents for three months, or you just won’t be in the right headspace to appreciate this.
Not only do you not understand me, the trees, also, do not understand me. Behold, I turn my back on nature. Pleasant rolling hills with a small creek, and lofty pines, I deny you. You will not intrude on my endless solitude. In fact, just to nail down my outsider status, I have coated myself thoroughly in RustOleum brand black board paint. Once you have used me, please erase your work so that I can be utterly, utterly empty for my next user.
Goodwill on 2222 and Lamar, Austin