Old in architecture school September 11, 2019

Apropos of my last two posts, I just read Old in Art School by Nell Painter, as it is our book club choice for next month.  (This on the heels of a summer dedicated to Ulysses –  oh my god, what a challenge!)

Painter’s path is much like mine.  We both retired from tenured faculty positions at prominent universities and changed directions completely in our early 60s.  Painter was a historian at Princeton and embarked on undergraduate painting studies at Rutgers, followed by a two-year MFA at the Rhode Island School of Design.  She is actually 11 years older than I am, so she has had more time to follow her path than I have, and to digest it.

Yet, I can see similarities already, the first being to acknowledge that what we have undertaken is arduous.  Oy, how arduous!  Art and architecture school can be challenging even for the young, but for someone enfeebled by fading energy, aches and pains, diminishing eyesight and hearing, and a general slowing down in thought and response time, these intense professional programs are not to be entered lightly.

She talks about being the “other”, and indeed we old-timers are decidedly different from our classmates in other ways, as well.  Unlike our younger cohort, we have the padding of an established home, health insurance, and a retirement income, not to mention the satisfaction of already having an accomplished career.  Because these assets automatically set us up for a cushioned fall should we choose not to continue, we can be perceived as dilettantes.  Painter bristles at the notion, but I get it. 

Still, there is a difference.  It isn’t clear to me if Painter has made it as an “An Artist” yet, with a capital A (as she refers to it), but she appears to spend a fair amount of her time painting.  Let’s face it: it’s a lot simpler to paint a canvas than it is to build a building.  Painting affords a lot more trial and error, a lot more rapid exploration.  Architecture, like science, is a community endeavor in that it requires a client, consultants, permits, builders, and a substantial bankroll to bring an idea to fruition. 

Hmm.  Perhaps I did not think this through.

Thoughts at the Transition September 4, 2019

I have calmed down from the final push of school.  By the end of June, I had completed my internship and then rushed off to see Annie and the rest of my small family in Minneapolis. 

Now I have spent two months at my remote home in Point Reyes Station.  Because it’s off the information grid, casual phone calls, texts, or emails are infrequent, and my loneliness is a constant.  Yet, I have had a lot of time to recover from school and to let thoughts for the “next stage” of my life bubble to the surface.

But the truth is, even after two months, I am lost, and maybe getting “loster”.  I’ve been thinking a lot about age and how our age – both our own perception of age and that of others – influences us, for better or worse. 

I am now 66.  I have spent the past six years of my life as a student: three at College of Marin and three more at California College of the Arts.  Was it worth it?  Sure, I think so.  I’ve learned a ton, stimulated my intellect and imagination, and made some new friends. 

But to what avail?  How will this help me moving forward?  Do I have the energy, drive, and focus to really start a new career as an architect?  And even if I do, could I expect someone to hire someone of my age?  This age issue is real.  Forty-five years ago, I was 1 of 10 women in a sea of 10,000 engineering undergraduates.  Yet I have never felt more “otherness” and incipient futility than I do now.