Josie Guerrero is focused on one thing: getting accepted into the prestigious art studies program within the Art School at the University of Southern Washington. With thirteen weeks to create her sophomore portfolio, she knows she can't afford any d...
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"Alright Rembrandt, your food's getting cold."
I know. I know it is, but I can't stop. I haven't been able to stop painting since I stepped into the studio Monday morning. I've been skipping classes, doing my homework on the studio couches in-between painting breaks, asking Lacie and Maria to pick up my shifts, and if it weren't for Ben bringing us dinner every night, I'd probably forget to eat.
But I can't stop.
I've been basking in inspiration since I got home Sunday night. Dancing in it, really.
For the first time in my life, I've found myself inexplicably gravitating toward the charcoal grays and midnight blacks. Almost all the paintings in my portfolio are full of color — a sweeping collage of bright yellows and blues with splashes of vibrant reds and pinks, but this morning, I watched my brush color the canvas with the darkest blacks and grays, never more inspired by the depth of the colors than in that moment.
I want to stay like this, floating undisturbed in my art bubble, refusing to be popped. But even in my bubble, I can't ignore the audible growl of my stomach.
"Fine," I resign, setting my paintbrush down on my work tray so it doesn't bleed paint across the countertop. Ben's lips tilt up as he takes a bite of his sandwich, his eyes trained on me as I nudge the faucet on with my wrist.
"You'll thank me later when you don't pass out and knock over your canvas again," he calls.
I didn't pass out. I stumbled...into the countertop and almost knocked over my easel.
But to be fair, I'd been standing for nine hours straight and forgot to drink water, so that one was kind of my fault. I've been better about it, though. Now, whenever I plan to spend the entire day — or night — in the studio, I set timers to remind myself to take breaks. Whether I listen to them or just hit snooze is neither here nor there. The important thing is that after spending more time in the studio in the past week than I have in the past two months combined, I've managed to finish three more paintings for my portfolio. And the one I'm working on now, while more intricate than the other portraits, will be my fifth and final. Portrait, that is. The sixth portrait isn't exactly a portrait but rather an open frame — a symbolic space in a way. These paintings mean nothing without the main piece in the portfolio, though. The one that ties them all together, the one that gives them meaning beyond a stoic stare or a soft smile.
I'm tempted to start that piece now, but I can't paint it until the portraits are done first since they're interconnected. I've been trying to explain to Ben the vision I have for the final piece, but every time I try, I lose him in the explanation. I'm not the best at wording my vision—especially not one this...mind-twisting, so I usually just give up halfway through and say, "It'll make sense when you see it."
I hope.
I try not to think about what it would mean if my collection didn't come together the way I'm envisioning — the rejection to the Art Program, the boxes stacked around my room as I pack up everything I own, the admissions paperwork to UCLA, the plane ticket, the goodbyes.
