Although I have several events planned for the evening my Thursday morning is completely free. After finally catching up on sleep and taking my time to wake up I coaxed myself into finishing my opera paper. It's technically only day late, but I feel as though it might as well have been a week. It's not my best work and I'm convinced that I'll get a worse grade than my first paper, but it is such a relief to have it finished that I don't even mind. I dress up for my Italian class as I'm going straight to the Abigail Child exhibit afterward. Class is interesting but
uneventful as usual, and I'm getting nervous about this exhibition. It's a short walk that includes passing armed guards outside the Irish embassy. The reason I'm nervous is mostly due to the fact that once inside the gated grounds of the academy I don't know where I'm going, and I'm going by myself. My fears turn out to be unnecessary , the gate man is kind and signs point the way to the exhibit. There is a wine and cheese and nut table on the way in. Score. The first film is found footage that the artist has arranged and narrated to form a story. It takes place during WWII and focuses on the viewpoint of a young Jewish girl. (Not like Ann Frank: less hiding) Another shorter film consists of black and white slapstick comedy set to thunderous music. Down a white painted brick hallway are six projections of (modern) roman women and children dressed in togas with olive branches wreathing their heads. The subjects are posing, and the film catches their fidgets and breaks in character. In this hallway I hear a woman talking about moving a few of the films for better flow of the space. It takes me a minute to realize that she is the artist, which I think is very awesome. As I'm realizing this a man approaches her. He looks familiar to me, and I realize that we have studied him in class, he is a very famous contemporary Roman artist. I'm nervous again. I feel as though I have no right to be rubbing elbows with famous artists, and at the same time I know I deserve to at this opening as much as anyone else. I watch the last two videos, one of which very cleverly contrasts a baton twirler practicing in her back yard with an army regiment toting rifles. I walk back to the school for my second engagement of the evening. Tonight is the REMUS opening:
the literary journal that I submitted art to was having an opening event. Copies of the journal would be passed out, and select students would be reading their works. I was eager to see what art work of mine they used( I previously received an email saying some of my work had been selected) and there was more free food. At this stage of my experience I was all over anything free, especially food. I took a seat in the auditorium and picked up the journal that as on my chair. It was bound more professionally than BVU's literary journal, but these were completely black and white. I was proud to see that they had used two of my works.: A picture from Florence and a print of Johnathon that I drew monsters on. I was checking out the other work when I heard a woman asking, "Do you know Morgan Anderson?" to random crowd members. I raised my hand and announced that I was Morgan Anderson. The woman said, "You got the cover!" I looked dumbly down at the book in my hands before recognizing Johnathon yet again. They had arranged one of my prints for the cover of the book, and I hadn't even realized it. The woman who turned out to be the creative writing professor continued to tell me how much she loved my work, called several of my pieces by name, and informed me that the editors had to stop themselves from using all my works. I've never felt more flattered in my life. She handed me two more copies with a hand tied red ribbon holding them together. As the ceremony started the projector turned on there was Johnathon big as could be. I was pretty pleased with myself. The readings
of the night were good, especially the last one. It was the account of a girl who grew up in a cult. The event was finished with Indian food, which I had never had before. I met the student editor as she spooned food onto my plate. She distracted me so much with blush inducing compliments that I spilled my food all over the table. I'm not used to this kind of attention over my art, and I couldn't help but think about how impressed they'd be if they saw some of my BVU peers work. It was a good feeling all the same be appreciation. When it was time for me to leave it was nearly eleven o'clock and pretty dark out. I walked home anyway and regretted it. The roads i walk during the day had no street lights and I was a bit spooked. I decided next time I would take a bus and risk old roman men. I made it home safely and happily from another amazing day in Rome.
uneventful as usual, and I'm getting nervous about this exhibition. It's a short walk that includes passing armed guards outside the Irish embassy. The reason I'm nervous is mostly due to the fact that once inside the gated grounds of the academy I don't know where I'm going, and I'm going by myself. My fears turn out to be unnecessary , the gate man is kind and signs point the way to the exhibit. There is a wine and cheese and nut table on the way in. Score. The first film is found footage that the artist has arranged and narrated to form a story. It takes place during WWII and focuses on the viewpoint of a young Jewish girl. (Not like Ann Frank: less hiding) Another shorter film consists of black and white slapstick comedy set to thunderous music. Down a white painted brick hallway are six projections of (modern) roman women and children dressed in togas with olive branches wreathing their heads. The subjects are posing, and the film catches their fidgets and breaks in character. In this hallway I hear a woman talking about moving a few of the films for better flow of the space. It takes me a minute to realize that she is the artist, which I think is very awesome. As I'm realizing this a man approaches her. He looks familiar to me, and I realize that we have studied him in class, he is a very famous contemporary Roman artist. I'm nervous again. I feel as though I have no right to be rubbing elbows with famous artists, and at the same time I know I deserve to at this opening as much as anyone else. I watch the last two videos, one of which very cleverly contrasts a baton twirler practicing in her back yard with an army regiment toting rifles. I walk back to the school for my second engagement of the evening. Tonight is the REMUS opening:
the literary journal that I submitted art to was having an opening event. Copies of the journal would be passed out, and select students would be reading their works. I was eager to see what art work of mine they used( I previously received an email saying some of my work had been selected) and there was more free food. At this stage of my experience I was all over anything free, especially food. I took a seat in the auditorium and picked up the journal that as on my chair. It was bound more professionally than BVU's literary journal, but these were completely black and white. I was proud to see that they had used two of my works.: A picture from Florence and a print of Johnathon that I drew monsters on. I was checking out the other work when I heard a woman asking, "Do you know Morgan Anderson?" to random crowd members. I raised my hand and announced that I was Morgan Anderson. The woman said, "You got the cover!" I looked dumbly down at the book in my hands before recognizing Johnathon yet again. They had arranged one of my prints for the cover of the book, and I hadn't even realized it. The woman who turned out to be the creative writing professor continued to tell me how much she loved my work, called several of my pieces by name, and informed me that the editors had to stop themselves from using all my works. I've never felt more flattered in my life. She handed me two more copies with a hand tied red ribbon holding them together. As the ceremony started the projector turned on there was Johnathon big as could be. I was pretty pleased with myself. The readings 
of the night were good, especially the last one. It was the account of a girl who grew up in a cult. The event was finished with Indian food, which I had never had before. I met the student editor as she spooned food onto my plate. She distracted me so much with blush inducing compliments that I spilled my food all over the table. I'm not used to this kind of attention over my art, and I couldn't help but think about how impressed they'd be if they saw some of my BVU peers work. It was a good feeling all the same be appreciation. When it was time for me to leave it was nearly eleven o'clock and pretty dark out. I walked home anyway and regretted it. The roads i walk during the day had no street lights and I was a bit spooked. I decided next time I would take a bus and risk old roman men. I made it home safely and happily from another amazing day in Rome.
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