I entered the subterrain of the school, ” The Art Students League of New York ”, and down the stairs I went to attend my first painting course. The winter was getting worse. I opened the classroom door, and the smell of years piled up in my senses, imprisoning me in the history of graffiti walls, sculptures, paintings, chairs, tables, stools, brushstrokes; and the closet burst so many things inside and up, supported the footsteps in objects, and all this, led me to thousands of memories of brushstrokes, footsteps and moods of future student-artists who passionately sought to express their ideas.
Columna: 3
Art hall of the school ” The Art Students League of New “
Columna: 4
Eliminar la fila
Columna: 1
Columna: 2
My eyes continued to scan and ride every corner like a camera, photographing the curiosities and impressions that I saw in the classroom. I noticed that in the center of the place was the teacher, which, I was impressed to see her dressed elegantly… I was touched by the aura she wore. She looked like a beautiful rider with her dark green hat and a strong character, perfectly combined— something very unusual for artists— and in an underground…, I whispered in my mind!
Prof. Sylya Kiese and I at The Art Students League of New York, during the exhibition in the school gallery, with the purpose of our end of the course. I had the opportunity to present my paintings with their writing.
Column: 3
Remove the row
Column: 1
Column: 2
I made this sculpture in the classes Three-dimensional sculpture I did with Professor Sylya Kiese, I called the sculpture The History of Humanity 2013, New York. 8″ x 8″ Foam cube in acrylic, metal and stone. The jury gave a mention in blue, as original work. I was very happy to be my first sculptural work. Here I put elements of the development of humanity.
Column: 3
My eyes continued to walk around the place, looking at what my classmates were going to do: we greeted each other and I introduced myself to each of them. Janet, the professor’s very kind assistant, gave me the directions of the course —to which I became rather confused— and the teacher finished talking with one of my future classmates. Finally, the lovely lady introduced herself and I introduced myself in return. I thought I had enrolled in painting classes, but as I looked around the room I realized that I had not enrolled in the subject of painting, but in the course of inspired writing and three-dimensional sculpture. I alerted the assistant about the situation where we proceeded to decide that I would stay for that day’s class, and then I would make the change. The teacher began speaking, and as the classes were in English and had some technical words of the subject, I tried to look for similar words in the fast file of my memory, since it was a completely literary course, then my computer traveled at a speed incomparable to my brain looking for words more or less suitable, to follow to the suggestive teacher with her attractive explanations, and my dictionary of my mind fit the sentences organized in order of concepts in the folder of my memory desk. So much that I did not pay attention to making the change to painting. The course was about creative writing, and there, the muse of my being began, to hide the brushes so that I could get acquainted with my writings. Everything was in perfect perfection.
Column: 4
Remove the row
Column: 1
Column: 2
My imagination began to braid sentences, running in waves as if I were in the universe, where I felt like a bird feather that floated and floated in the air… the magic of Aladdin and my being, they remembered to enter the cave of the happiness of my soul, dancing it, in spaces without limit…, leaving behind the endless past of “to be, or not to be, that is the question”, as Shakespeare once said… I opened myself to the intricate music of my flower, to be… charcoal on paper.
Column: 3
Remove the row
Column: 1
Column: 2
Thanks to Prof. Sylya Kiese, The Art Students League of New York, for her very interesting classes, who encouraged me to launch myself with consciousness to the new life of a writer, who made me recognize the burden of sensitivity that my writings possess. She loved the idea that each of my inspirations were accompanied by a painting.
In addition, bounce, to each of my colleagues, who were wonderful and enjoyed pleasant moments and in space to Uri, my angel, who offered to help me in the simultaneous translations, when I could not translate something. We were doing a phenomenal linguistic exchange duo. He was studying advanced Spanish, excellent! and talented young writer Bravo, Uri! Thanks to the League school, for being there, giving their extraordinary services of love to the arts.
Column: 3
Prof. Sylya Kiese, with Uri and my colleagues working during the assembly of our exhibition.
Columna: 4
Eliminar la fila
Columna: 1
Columna: 2
Prof. Sylya Kiese, his assistant Janet and me.
Columna: 3
My angel Uri, who read my poems in English and translated me if necessary, the tasks of rapid tests, conducted in the classroom.
Columna: 4
Eliminar la fila
Columna: 1
Columna: 2
Infinite thanks,
Deya Delacruz
Columna: 3