I applied to my first year of college expecting to become a
graphic designer.
As an ignorant art student, I thought graphic design was the
god tier of art. All artists wanted to become a graphic designer. If they
didn’t want to become a graphic designer, they wanted to become an animator or
an illustrator.
Everything else meant you were going to end up a starving
artist on the side of the road, living like a hobo. That’s how it was in my
head anyway.
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| I dress like a hobo everyday |
I had never even heard of industrial design until my
freshman year. What’s industrial design? Isn’t that like architecture, where
they build buildings, like factories? Sounds boring. I don’t want that as my
major.
The year went by and then it was time for portfolio
interviews to see which major decided we were worthy enough to grace their
field. My first choice was the obvious top tier graphic design, and my second
choice was the fall back of industrial design.
The graphic design professors stared at me like hungry crows,
waiting for me to die of anxiety, maybe two out of five of them even bothering
to crack a smile, asking me question after question.
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| Caw caw |
The industrial design professor, singular, sat me down and
we chatted, a few questions, but no ravenous stares, it was more of a mourning
dove.
I had no idea what I was talking about, for either
interview.
Graphic design didn’t want me, and while declaring my major
in that small office, I declared industrial design as my field.
I went down kicking and screaming.
But in the end, I’m glad graphic design didn’t want me,
dropped me on my butt and made me crawl to industrial design.
Our homework is to build things and take things apart.
Take that GD.
Thank you for not accepting me into your murder.
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| Thank Jove! |
- A
