No Advisor, No Problem (Open to all in Art Club)
Apr 21, 2011 9:35:12 GMT -5
Post by Annabelle Coronova on Apr 21, 2011 9:35:12 GMT -5
The room was slightly messy; the linoleum tiles stained with pain drops that hadn't ever made it to the painting, with scuff marks from various sorts of shoes, with dirt and dust from infrequent cleaning. The room smelled of acrylics and of charcoal, of dust and musk, although the slight crack in the opened window, the only opened one in the entire room, let for a small whiff of fresh, cool spring air. The lights weren't on, but there was no need for them, as the sun was shining into the windows, splintering its reflection on the tables and easels and chairs all arranged around the room. All seemed to be in place, except for one minor exception: an advisor, professor, instructor, whatever you'd like to call them.
Art Club had been postponed for quite a while now, as there were indeed students that wanted to get involved with the organization, but lacked proper supervision. In Bells' mind, if the only thing that these students wanted to do was mess around and goof off, they could have applied to be in another club, take Golf or Yearbook or something like that. But not art. There were dedicated members towards this group, including herself. They weren't in the group to mess around, they were there to escape from reality and into a painting, into a drawing, mixed media, sculpture, you name it. Art was a form of escapism, one that they'd been holding out for for far too long.
Bells wasn't really one to sit around and wait for others to pick up the slack. When she wanted something done, usually she'd just get up and do it. Nothing to it. For this particular case, she had been respecting the administration of the school, counting on them to find a professor or someone of the sort to fill the position, but as no one had yet to come and fill that empty spot, and as it was nearly the end of the school year, she figured that there was enough idle time spent on waiting, and that there was no better time than the present to get up and do something. So here she was, standing in an empty and still art classroom, one that could potentially be filled with artists and escapists alike. Now if only they would come.
Art Club had been postponed for quite a while now, as there were indeed students that wanted to get involved with the organization, but lacked proper supervision. In Bells' mind, if the only thing that these students wanted to do was mess around and goof off, they could have applied to be in another club, take Golf or Yearbook or something like that. But not art. There were dedicated members towards this group, including herself. They weren't in the group to mess around, they were there to escape from reality and into a painting, into a drawing, mixed media, sculpture, you name it. Art was a form of escapism, one that they'd been holding out for for far too long.
Bells wasn't really one to sit around and wait for others to pick up the slack. When she wanted something done, usually she'd just get up and do it. Nothing to it. For this particular case, she had been respecting the administration of the school, counting on them to find a professor or someone of the sort to fill the position, but as no one had yet to come and fill that empty spot, and as it was nearly the end of the school year, she figured that there was enough idle time spent on waiting, and that there was no better time than the present to get up and do something. So here she was, standing in an empty and still art classroom, one that could potentially be filled with artists and escapists alike. Now if only they would come.
