Dear Readers    

When I moved to Los Angeles to attend grad school for my MFA at the University of Southern California, it was apparent I was at a crossroads in my life. Making the decision to leave the place where I grew up, to leave behind all my family and friends, leave behind the only world I knew—was surprisingly easy!

I was in my late 20s and it was time to take the plunge, as a mentor advised—meaning quitting one’s straight job and devoting all one’s time to being an artist. So off to California I went.

But I was green, oh so green. I shudder to reveal just how naïve I was about the big ol’ art world. I’ve never been insecure about my art, but I was beginning to feel less confident about what the art world exactly was and what I’d gotten myself into. Where I came from, there was one commercial art gallery, one art museum that had one wing for contemporary art, and one Western Cowboy art museum—world-renowned! I was not familiar with the contemporary art magazines that might have brought me a little up to speed.

My first semester at USC, one professor (and maybe all the faculty!) immediately saw right through me. He sat me down, threw a bunch of art magazines at me and told me to go through them and write down all the artists I liked. I looked only at the ads and told him I liked Mary Boone’s work and Leo Castelli wasn’t too bad either. What was a professor supposed to make of a student who couldn’t tell the difference between an artist and an art dealer—world-famous at that?

Then in my first studio crit the faculty asked me whose work influenced me the most—“besides Larry Clark and Charles Bukowski,” they snorted with derision. I replied “John Waters.” Then they barked, “No! What visual artist?” I froze. I looked around the walls of my studio and all I could see were these swirling pastel colors. Finally, with evident uncertainty, I said, “Uh, the Impressionists?”

That was it. The faculty was not amused. They immediately left, shaking their heads. I was put on probation.
But I took my art-making seriously. And I wanted to make good art. I think they saw that. I did graduate after all.

USC art professor Jud Fine whom I interview in this issue—one of the snorters, incidentally—says you don’t have to have talent to be an artist; you just have to have the desire. I like the last part of that statement, and I’m still getting used to the first part.

But do you have to go to school to be an artist? That’s one question that this September issue addresses. We can agree that it isn’t entirely necessary. And with the rising costs of higher education and a degree with dubious payoffs, artist-wannabe students are re-evaluating the importance of getting that required MFA.

Our Back to School issue looks at some of the top art schools in Southern California, and writer Christopher Michno asks if there is a ranking system we can rely on—and if anyone really cares. Ezrha Jean Black studies the teaching techniques of Corita Kent, revealing how rules are made to be broken. And recent MFA grads describe their crits and experiences in art school, while Zak Smith recounts the chilling, terror of the Yale Pit Crit!

I still would never take back my grad school experience—it was life-changing, without a doubt. But thankfully I didn’t have a hefty school-loan debt, one equal to buying a house nowadays. The fact USC did have the MFA full-scholarship program allowed me to change my life. Going to college shouldn’t have to be a luxury, afforded only by the rich and privileged. Just think, I would still be in Oklahoma, surrounded by pastel cowboys.