When I say that I “rushed” to make my college choice the second time around it was, indeed, fast.

I had less than a few months till the upcoming Fall semester. I knew my choices–just based on the amount of time I had left to apply–were limited. If I wanted to get into a school in the Fall, I’d have to choose locally. My parents were already worried about my decision to leave PSU, so they had me choose local schools. I wouldn’t necessairly say they chose for me, but they were still limited. Afterall, I was one of the very fortunate kids attending school on my parents’ dime and, financially, I knew in my heart that my father just couldn’t afford to send me to a prestigious art school in New York or upper New England. In addition, I knew that he would have been deeply affected if I took out loans. He’d feel guilty about his financial shortcomings, that he couldn’t afford to send his youngest daughter to where she really wanted to go. I never told him that I dreamed of going to Pratt..or Parsons..or even Boston. So, basically, it was Philly (which I loathed the idea of) or the local art school: Pennsylvania College of Art & Design. It wasn’t even accredited at the time (it is now), but it was slowly developing a reputation. Did it “fit”? Was it the ideal art school for me? Not necessairly. But, by this point, I barely had time to stand back and think about my options. I simply applied. Quickly. I was grateful to get an appointment for an interview almost immediately. Then I was accepted just a few weeks later. I could put my worries to rest almost instantly now. I was in an art university, and I would have the opportunity to start right away instead of waiting till the Spring or the following Fall.

Going from a college with over 50,000 students and a neverending campus to a college of less than 800 students and only one building facility in the middle of a city would be a major transition for anyone. In the beginning, I confess to assesting the situation to more like “going to work than going to college.” There was no campus. No dorm room. No walking to an 8 a.m. class just five minutes away. I lived and commuted from home, thereby, saving a great deal of money. But it also left me out-of-touch in the beginning. I found it difficult falling into a group of people and by midway through my first year, I was terribly afraid that I had made a big mistake. By the end of freshman year (I ended up being a freshman twice, a joy in disguise), that fear softened but I still wasn’t entirely convinced. By sophmore year, I was a lot more comfortable in an art instituion. I started taking advantage of the opportunities the school offered each individual artist: a highly educational experience where I had every opportunity to grow as an artist but at a fraction of the cost that a NY-based instituition would provided me. I had terrific professors, all true practitioners in their fields and extremely talented to boot. I had peers putting out some of the most fantastic contemporary work students could produce. And it was remarkable to discover this was all happening right where it began for me: at home. What I discovered from my undergrad was that art education is really what you, the artist, make of it. Everything else about schools are simply facts and figures. Sure, they may be impressive and it may cost you an arm (and your creative hands!) to pay the alarming prices they require, but I no longer consider myself one of the students who attended a school because of it’s “name”. But then, I suppose, art school (or any creative field) is different than any other education. It’s far more personal and self-involved, so much so that, at the end of the day, the actual school you attend is far less important than what you create with the education you are given.

I am currently apply to gradschool for my MA in Painting, and I can’t wait to see where I end up..if anywhere. Ha! :)  

Choosing a college or university, whether it’s for undergrad or postgrad or fine arts or graphic design, is a tough decision. For me, I was rather “rushed” into making my decision to enter art school.

I started out as a freshman at Penn State University (University Park). At the time, it was perfect. Both of my older sisters and my father were all PSU alumni. It seemed like the next logical step and, as far as I was concerned, if it was good fit for them, it would be a good fit for me. I went in as an undecided major. I knew I loved art and my high school teachers constantly encouraged me to consider Fine Arts when I was applying for college, but I wasn’t convinced. Afterall, painting/drawing was not my only love… I loved writing, playing music, reading classic literature and European history. I had a lot of career options open to me. And, at the time, I also (regretably) thought like my father: that, financially, art was a very insecure major with little possibility of making a lifetime career out of it. Boo.

But, luckily, I changed my mind. As I began taking art courses, I realized just how many artists there were, just like me, choosing to take a chance on their talent. Choosing to withstand the hardships, knowing full-well how difficult it could be to make a living, but choosing to do art anyway. How cool. (How rebellious! Ha!) My family encouraged me to go for what I loved, and I’m very thankful for that, because I probably would not have a B.F.A. in Fine Arts now if they didn’t have more faith than I did.

As I made my choice to go for this degree, I slowly came to realize my college choice was the wrong “fit”. My creative needs were missing. There are many positive aspects about that school that I love and appreciate (and missed when I left) but, ultimately, I needed to be at a smaller college where I wouldn’t feel like a number. And I needed to be surrounded by all of those creative fields. Literally. I could only be inspired if I could feed off of it. So, when my first year of college was over, I rushed to make that important college decision all over again.

 To Be Continued…