Hello, I'd like to share sub-standard facilities with a bunch of chavs, please.
Okay, so that's a bit mean.
Today I went to an interview at Stroud College (Spoilers: I got in), which has a rather less shining reputation than Cheltenham Art College, but that closed down last year so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.
Apparently Stroud has a thriving art community, albeit of a slightly hippyish persuasion, so there are worse places to study. And while the college is hardly [prestigious art college], it's clean and well-maintained, so I'm sure it'll be quite sufficient for anyone willing to put the effort in. Speaking realistically, that may or may not include me.
The bus got in an hour before the interview, so I went for a walk around the grounds before slumping into a reception chair across from a portly, no-nonsense-looking fellow with a small, white growth on his right temple. It was still fifteen minutes before my appointment, so I twiddled my thumbs until a man with some files under his arm stopped to chat with the seated fellow, who explained that his last interviewee hadn't turned up, and he was now waiting for his next appointment in fifteen minutes. I stuck up a hand and said that was probably me.
After a brief introduction, some paperwork and a little explaination of the Foundation Course structure, we went through my portfolio. He nodded at my supposed-to-be-backlit Tree at Sunset, and raised his eyebrows at Fucking Massive Metamorphosis of Natural Forms. I then dropped onto the table a stack of 60+ tracing paper animation cels plus backdrop, which he seemed rather taken aback by. If only we had a PC in the room, I said, I could show you the finished animation.
"Oh, we have Macs (*wince*) in the next room, show me!"
...
"Okay, so I'm prepared to make you an unconditional offer..."
And then I went home. One can only assume the bar of entry for Stroud is set a little on the low side.
The bloke also said I might be just young enough to limbo under the £1,450 tuition fees; leaving me with just a £300 materials fee to scratch my head over. I'll get £250 off my Dad when I finish my FUCKING DIGGING... in theory. I think it was supposed to be done by now, so I might not feel comfortable taking money for it a couple of months down the line. Maybe I'll give him a discount.
So that's my life sorted out until September 2015. Fuck knows what I'm doing after that.
