When you left home for the first time do you remember everything about that day? For me, this happened five years ago around this same time. I was an incoming Freshman at BYU looking to study French and International Relations. I was going to live in Africa and change the world through Educational Humanitarianism. Things seemed so clear in my mind and it was just a matter of time before I'd be embarking on my life's mission. That first day I was in Provo I went to a BBQ that my best friend, Alicia Reynolds was having with her family and new roommates over at Wyview. Looking back on it now, I realize how much I have changed since then and how grateful I am for the different things that have come into my life.
I spent four full and exhausting years studying Interdisciplinary Humanities, French and Art History. It sounds like a lot but they all supplement each other. Even though many people say that you can't do anything with a Humanities degree I am determined to prove them wrong by getting my Masters, perhaps even a PhD and fulfilling my goal of working in a museum's Education Department or becoming a professor.
When I leave, I feel like it is going to be a very surreal
experience. It still hasn’t hit me that
I’m leaving my college past behind and moving on to a place where I no longer
will be considered a college kid but a full functioning adult…well maybe not
full functioning but you know what I mean.
I’ll soon get my own apartment that isn’t BYU contracted, that’s when
you know you are a real adult, when the world trusts you enough to not have a
curfew, a chastity line and your whole ward staring you down when you are
saying goodbye to a date.
I will of course miss all of my friends, but nerdily enough
the MOA is the next thing that I will miss dearly. If you didn’t go to any of the openings or
see me at work then let me explain to you how much I love that place. I went to the MOA at least twice a week as a
Freshman and Sophomore to walk around and look at the art, study and
meditate. Then I got the internship
there which turned into a job helping out for Carl Bloch in which me and every
other student worker basically lived there and had Bloch on the brain
24/7. Then last summer I became an
Assistant to the Head Curator, Cheryll May, quite possibly the most
intimidating, kindest, genuine and genial woman I have ever met. Alongside Amanda Slater, I got to do
exhibition development research and was in charge of “The Book”. Yes “The Book” is just about the same as the
one they have in “The Devil Wears Prada”, it holds every single consideration
for the exhibition, transcripts of meetings, full color images of all of the
paintings, the gallery layout mockup, QR code plans, educational material and
the draft for the exhibition’s book. And
I was in charge of cataloging all of thatJ Amanda and I slaved over going through the
Dorothy Weir Papers finding things to include in the exhibition, I got to
translate drunken letters of a French speaking Finn. That was probably my favorite thing, reading
a description where one of the Weir brothers woke up on the 4th of
July to his drunken Finn roommate singing “Yankee Doodle” with the flag draped
around him. However the hand writing was
rough to read through, the pages were delicate and at times I had to read
disturbing descriptions of going to art school in Paris where they took
convicts that were killed and then had their bodies used in class nailed to a
crucifix in order for the students to properly learn how to sketch out the
Christ figure on the Cross. So yes, when
I see an older religious painting it usually makes me think where they
initially learned how the blood coagulated, the skin bruised and the muscles
tighten in pain. This sounds like I’m
completely disgusted but it brings a whole new way of thinking to art and the
creative process.
Back on track, I will miss you all and hope for the
best. I will visit eventually, just give
me some time to growJ
